


Together (Ice and Fire)

by grednforgesgirl



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jonerys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 01:52:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12288711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grednforgesgirl/pseuds/grednforgesgirl
Summary: God help me, I needed more of the boatsex scene. So here you go, extended version. and more. "He took a step closer. He was so close. She felt surrounded. Safe. She felt the warmth radiating off him like fire. She had been so cold since she had landed in Westeros. She didn't feel cold now."This has turned into a multi-chapter fic with plot!





	1. Ice and Fire

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: I couldn't take it anymore, so you're welcome. My poor little heart. Enjoy.

**JON**

The wooden planks echoed under his feet.

_Thunk._

_Thunk._

_Thunk._

He sighed. Turned.

_Thunk._

_Thunk._

_Thunk._

Jon's heart was pounding. He could feel it, hear it. Strong in his chest. For every step, there were three.

_Thunk._

_Thump thump thump._

_Thunk._

_Thump thump thump._

_Thunk._

_Thump thump thump._

Hammering so hard it was painful.

Did he dare?

How could he dare?

He must. He couldn't take it another second. His heart would explode.

He'd never felt like this. This….anxious anticipation. The fear.

_Oh, gods, what if she doesn't feel the same?_

But the way she had looked at him….their conversation in the dragon pit…

_The way she looked at him and held his hand on the boat…_

There was something…extraordinary there. Something he could not explain. He was drawn to her. And she to him.

_Thunk._

_Thunk._

_Thunk._

He could go to her, here now, it was his opportunity…there would never be a better one, as the long night would come for them as soon as they stepped ashore –  _Like this hadn't been in the forefront of his mind when he suggested she sail with him instead of riding her dragon_  – Or he could sit here in his cabin, pacing, wearing a hole in the solid wood planks beneath him until he fell below decks from wearing them so thin….like a coward.

He took a deep, steadying breath. The well-oiled hinges were silent as he gently opened the thick wood door.

**DAENERYS**

Her pillows and bedding were soft. The gentle rocking of the boat and the soft sounds of the sea could do nothing to soothe the torment going on in her head.

_Jon._

His name echoed in her head, over and over again. Come unbidden to her mind were sweet, soft images of whispering that name into his soft curls and his skin…what would his skin feel like against hers?

_Jon._

She had not felt this. She had never felt this…anticipation. This  _need._  She couldn't breathe. Her chest was tight. It was painful. The pain she had felt ever since she had seen her baby fall through the air…she had not thought it possible…she still didn't quite believe….

But it was dulled by this. This need. This want.

_Jon._

She needed him. She needed him so badly it ached. Ached deep in parts of her. She had not felt this. Never felt this. Not even with Drogo. Not this all-consuming need. She wanted to kiss every single one of those scars…she hadn't been able to stop fantasizing about it ever since she'd seen them.

_Jon._

The burning in his eyes. She had seen it there. Strong as fire.

She wanted him. Their conversation in the Dragon Pit had made her need all that much stronger. Had he done it on purpose? Had he known she would be consumed with this…need for him to  _show her_  that the Witch had lied?

_Have you ever considered she might not be a reliable source of information?_

Yes, but the scaly monster she had birthed from Drogo…. Her miscarriage with Daario, that tiny husk of a baby, if you could call it that…it had had scales…was not entirely human…she'd called for Missandei in shock because she couldn't stand to look at the terrifying monster anymore…her child…so small…of course she could get pregnant, but what kind of child could she ever have?

_But Jon…_

There was something deep inside of her that called to him. A Fire in her blood that pulled her towards him, like it had pulled her towards the Fire she had birthed her children from…it called to her…she needed him….but the dead were coming…there was no time…

_Jon._

_You had better take advantage of what little time you might have left,_ she thought. Gods knew she never had enough time…not with Drogo, not with Viseryion…would she squander the time she had with Jon Snow, as well?

There was a knock at the door.

**ICE AND FIRE**

Jon took a deep breath. Dare he do this? He would just talk. Talk about this unspoken thing between them. He had to get it out. Had to tell her how he felt. If this was all the time left in the world he had with her…he had to tell her.

" _He loved her."_

He hesitated. Took a deep breath, then held it. He knocked on the door.  _Oh, gods, there's no turning back now._

_It's probably Missandei,_  thought Daenerys, snapping out of it.  _Or Tyrion, wanting to know if I've settled in._

She shook the thoughts of Jon Snow out of her head, and walked towards the door.

The door opened. Their eyes met. Daenerys' eyes widened. Her heart began hammering. It was the last person she had been expecting to see but knew all along she had been hoping for.

" _And she loved him."_

That fire in his eyes. That intense look. She had never seen anything of it's like in her time. She immediately knew– _hoped_ –what he was there for. She would have to be blind not to see. Her heart burst out of her chest. He was looking at  _her_  that way. Dark and lustful and husky.

Her eyes were soft.  _She knows,_ he thought. How could she not? It was written all over his face. Without breaking the intense eye contact between them, she opened the door wider and stood aside to let him in.

And in he stepped, with the confidence of a man who knew what he wanted and how to get it. He couldn't take another minute of restraining himself. Her pulse quickened. She was rooted to the floor beneath her, like she'd been shocked, as his hand closed around the door and he turned around, his eyes meeting hers again with a jolt. She was not even aware she was not breathing.

She was aware, however, of the soft click of the door closing beside them, of the solid mass of his arm so close to her, immediately making her feel very small and very safe. She was so aware of his scent, the first notes of salt from the sea, and the hard smell of his leathers…and that wonderfully manly husk that made every one of her senses come alive. She felt like she could breath again. The skin of her neck tingled.  _Just wrap your arms around me, I need to be surrounded by you._

His hand slid off the door and she immediately missed the presence of his halo around her.

"Daenerys…" he said, his voice coming in little more than a husk. "I…"

He couldn't get the words out. He couldn't

"Jon…" she whispered. Her whole body ached with the release of the word that had been floating in her head for hours.

He took a step closer. He was so close. She felt surrounded. Safe. She felt the warmth radiating off him like fire. She had been so cold since she had landed in Westeros. She didn't feel cold now.

Her eyes were what drew him in. Her beautiful, violet eyes…they had trapped him since he had first looked into them…they had trapped him all the way across the throne room of Dragonstone as Missandei had read out all of her titles. How far they'd come. He had not been sure then if they would fight or fuck then, but now…

His fingers brushed her cheek, shocking her. Suddenly she was overwhelmed. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt her neck craning towards him. Her eyes lowered to his lips. Those beautiful lips. She wondered how they'd feel against hers…

"My Queen," those lips whispered, questioning. Suddenly she couldn't take it anymore.

"Kiss me," she breathed, commanded.

And he did.

Fire erupted at the point where their lips met. Was this how it ended? Was this how they would die? Light-headed, unable to breath, every nerve and fiber of their being alight…a fire that had burned deep within both of them suddenly raging…Jon felt the ice melt, the cold he had not been able to shake since he had gone to the wall…suddenly, it was gone, and he didn't need his furs. The ice was gone.

There was only the _Fire._

Was this what it meant to be the blood of the dragon? Was this how Daenerys felt? How every Targaryen felt? Jon wondered.

And she did, she felt the blood of the dragon awaken in her, the part that had been wounded and writhing in pain since Viserion's death burned again…roaring within her.

_Dracarys,_  it demanded of her.

He gripped her head in both of his hands, she felt dizzy…but he was there to catch her. Their kiss, which had been so soft and gentle and light, suddenly deepened. Her palms cupped her jaw, setting a warmth there radiating through the rest of her skin.

Jon inhaled the scent of her skin as he deepened the kiss…he wanted to crawl inside her and never leave. He wanted to eat her…eat every part of her. Their tongues intertwined. He felt like he was home. Like he belonged there. He never wanted to leave.

Suddenly he slammed her against the door. He could not get close enough to her on his own. He needed leverage. She was trapped and she loved it. His lips left hers so he could look at her. She was beautifully flushed. Their eyes met. She couldn't breath. His eyes were so dark…

The door jiggled on it hinges and hit the frame with a soft  _thud_  as he kissed her deeply again, banging her against it. She felt her feet leave the floor without her consent and wrap around his waist, his hands gripping her bottom tightly to support her.

_What a perfect bottom_ , thought Jon as he squeezed it. Perfect for riding a dragon. But she was the dragon about to be ridden.

He growled like a wolf as he slammed her against the door, securing her in his arms, catching her lips in his with every breath. She was the only air he needed.

Her arms gripped his shoulders tightly, the leather creaking beneath her strong grip. His neck was soft and solid, the soft baby hairs tickling her fingers as it flowed through them. He growled again. Her heart raced. She needed to tease him more.  _Gods, she needed to tease him more._

She resisted him, pulling away, denying him her lips. He inhaled sharply, their mouth open, and met her eyes with a demanding fire. His lip twitched. She couldn't tell if he was amused or angry. She felt her lips pulling into what might have been a smile, what might have been a snarl, and he captured them again, more fiercely than before, knowing she might get away, and pulling her tighter.

He lifted her, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, and suddenly she felt weightless, like she was lighter than a feather to him, and he effortlessly swooped her towards the bed, where she fell with a soft swoosh of air releasing from the feathers of her bed. His hands were on her head again.

_Gods, he wanted to tangle his hands in her hair._  But he had no idea how to undo the fancy braid her hair was wrapped up in, and he didn't have time for that nonsense anyway. He was the wolf, and she was the dragon, (or were they both dragons at that moment? He couldn't tell…) and he would have her. Now.

His lips moved down from hers, kissing the corner of her soft lips, then the cheek…the soft skin of their cheeks pressed together and she kissed there, inhaling deeply…she had never smelled anything so wonderful in her life.

Her neck was soft and wonderful….he could bury himself in it forever. He wanted to kiss in that sensitive spot under her jaw until he died, want to listen to those soft sighs forever. He caught her earlobe up in his teeth, and she inhaled sharply and her back arched into him. Kissed his way down but was met only by the edge of her collar. He growled in frustration and pulled back.

_To come all this way to be foiled by her damn clothes,_  he thought wildly.

They unfastened, he found that out quickly, they were a simple hook-and-eyelet configuration (gods, he'd been hanging out too much with Sansa, why did he know this nonsense?) and he quickly undid every single one of them, thanking whatever gods there were that he'd been paying attention to his sister in some part of his brain.

Daenerys wore a dress underneath the robe, and he suddenly hated that she wore so many layers like armor. He cursed winter for making her so cold.

But she was not cold, as layer after layer got removed from her burning skin by the King in the North's deft hands. Every inch of skin that became exposed was quickly covered with his warm mouth, setting her very soul on fire until there was nothing left of her armor or the cold, only skin and fire and…

_Jon._

She pulled him up to her lips again from where he had been kissing the skin between her pelvis and her hip, swallowing his lips in hers. The rough leathers scraped at the inside of her delicate thighs. She needed to feel his skin against hers…needed it so badly she would light the world on fire if she didn't get it.

She started to work at the fastenings of his leather armor and quickly found she was out of her depth. He smiled, and pulled back, standing up as he began to strip for her. She smiled softly, breathing heavily through her nose, and made herself more comfortable on the bed to watch, propping her head up on her elbow, aching with need. She squeezed her legs tightly shut to relieve the pressure created between her aching thighs.

Layer after layer of his armor came off, and yet Jon did not feel exposed, he stood almost naked and vulnerable in front of this beautiful woman who watched, her eyes dark with hunger. Everything had fallen to the floor except his thin layer of britches that was a large tent in front of him.

_Small pecker,_  Tormund's voice echoed in his head, and suddenly he felt embarrassed. Did he have a small pecker? Would it be enough for her?

Daenerys sat up. Perhaps she sensed his anxiousness. Would she tell him to leave?

_She's so beautiful._  His heart ached. If she told him to leave he would die, he was sure of it. Chop his cock off and live like Theon and Varys and the Unsullied. What use would it be anyway if it could not please  _her?_

The thought had not even crossed her mind. Why did men think women cared about such things, anyway?

Her only thought was of exposing every inch of that wonderful cock and feeling it inside her.

Suddenly she surrounded him, her arms wrapped around his waist and kissing his stomach, not kneeling but sitting on the edge of the bed.  _She was the_ Queen.  _She would never kneel,_  he thought. Her fingers slipped beneath the waistband and unbuttoned his britches, and suddenly they fell in a heap around his ankles, and there he stood in all his glory. She stood back and looked at him hungrily. Daenerys flushed from top to toes in anticipation. They looked into each other's eyes again. And suddenly he was on her, pulling her up towards him, all insecurities forgotten, everything forgotten but her.

He grabbed her head and captured her mouth in his, and her arms wrapped around his shoulders, his skin pressed against hers and she was on fire again, much less satisfied than she thought she'd be by the touch of his skin. No, she needed more.

"Jon," she breathed between fiery kisses.

He moaned, heart aching with need. He threw her on the bed again, and kneeled on the floor before her.

" _My Queen,"_  he whispered, _"My Queen."_  Again and again against her skin in between kisses, lighting her heart on fire with every repetition. And suddenly he was kissing her,  _down there._

She gasped, then exhaled, sharp, short intakes of breath as his tongue moved against her folds.

_She smells wonderful, she tastes wonderful._

He didn't know how to describe the taste. There was nothing else like it in the world. Her moistness was thick and creamy and tasted somewhat like a fine olive brine, but sweeter and better. Ygritte hadn't tasted like this in the cave. Hers had been thin and slightly salty mixed with the hard scent of the road. But Daenerys tasted like a Queen.

Jon had heard that woman's mucuses tasted different at different times of their cycles, and the men had said the taste was the best and thickest when they were most fertile, when their womb would quicken with a hardy man's seed, and tasting it with his tongue and feeling it with his fingers was the only way to tell. Jon wondered if his Queen was during that time.

He hoped she was.

_I can't have children,_  she had said, her eyes full of pain. He could tell, immediately, that she had never wanted anything more in the world, not even the iron throne, more than she wanted a child in her arms.

He wanted to prove that vile witch that had killed her husband and told her she would never bear children very, very,  _very_ wrong. Wanted nothing more than to give Daenerys the child she had always wanted. That he had never known or allowed himself to know he wanted.

He had never wanted to bring a bastard in this world. But this child would not be a bastard. He was determined about that.

The Weirwood tree waited for them at Winterfell. Of that he was certain. It made sense, politically and ….well, for other, more personal reasons. He wondered why he hadn't thought of it before. It was only now, with his face buried deep between her legs, the taste of her on his tongue, the wonderful scent of her engulfing his nostrils, her curls tickling his nose, and the sound of her soft, stuttered moans filling his ears that the world finally came together. Of course they would get married. Of course they would defeat the white walkers together. Of course she would sit on the Iron Throne. It was destined. Fire and Ice. She was Fire. He was Ice. What else in the world was there but the two of them?

For Dany, she could think of nothing, her mind was nothing but blackness as her eyes squeezed shut and the waves of pleasure rolled between her legs and up her torso. Every time his tongue encircled the tiny nub between her folds, a new wave of pleasure jolted her body. She had never been kissed like this before, not by Daario, and definitely not by Drogo. She never even knew it was possible to feel this wonderful. She felt…worshipped. Every nerve in her body was alight, and she was not in control of her hips bucking against his mouth.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her legs, so her could keep his mouth on her moving hips. He moaned into her, vibrating every single cell of her being and and she moaned and sighed, tears pricking her eyes from the pleasure and release of the pain deep within her.

Her eyes shot open and she looked down at him. She had a sudden need to see him. She had never seen anything more beautiful. His eyes were closed, his face soft, so absorbed in his task. The world was still for what felt like an eternity as she watched him bob up and down between her thighs. Suddenly his eyes opened and their gazes met, and Daenerys felt her whole body melt and come alight at the same time.

" _My King,"_ she whispered, breathless.

He stopped. Looked up at her. His beard glistened with her wetness. His mouth was open in surprise.  _That_ he had never expected, but her calling him by his proper title (that he had never felt he deserved, really) awakened something…very  _primal_  in him. And strangely he felt the need to dominate her, which he quickly shoved back down. She is  _the Queen_ , he told himself forcefully. You do not dominate a  _Queen._

And suddenly, very suddenly, Daenerys felt very small and very submissive. It surprised her, because she had spent the later half of her life trying to overcome that feeling of helplessness. But this was….different. It made her feel…strangely  _empowered?_

She guided him off of her, delicately telling him to stand up. She slid off the bed onto the floor. His breath caught in his throat.  _She_  was the one  _bending the knee_.  _To him._

" _My King,"_  she whispered again.

She looked up at him with doe-eyes from her position below him. He couldn't breathe. How could he have ever gotten so lucky as to see the sight of the most powerful woman in Westeros kneeling before him? Her hands gliding across his skin? Her hands grabbing…? Her mouth kissing….? Her mouth closing around….?

_Oh….._

_Oh gods…_

Daenerys had never done this before, but she was suddenly wondering why she never had. His breathless moans were the most beautiful sounds she'd ever heard in her life.

"S–Stop…" he stuttered, breathless. "I – I can't – I won't be able to hold it–  _oh f-fuck–"_

She stopped immediately and laid back on the bed.

He took a moment, breathing deeply, his cock twitching, heart pounding. No one had ever done  _that_  to him before.

Keep it together, Snow, he thought desperately to himself, breathing heavily.  _Keep it together. Fuck._

He opened his eyes.

She was looking at him softly with those violet, doe eyes, soft and gentle and understanding. Her skin glowing softly in the candlelight. She was so beautiful.

"You are  _so_  beautiful," he breathed.

Her breath caught in her throat. Suddenly tears pricked her eyes. She knew this, she was not blind, had been told it before, had been told many variations of it, had heard  _ballads_  praising  _the Queen's_  beauty before, but this…. She realized she had never really believed any of it until Jon Snow said it to her  _like that._  All those years of Viserys telling her what an ugly little girl she was suddenly faded in light of Jon Snow telling her how beautiful she was. She needed to hear it again and again until that ugly voice in her head was  _gone._

" _You are so beautiful,"_  he whispered again, as if he knew she needed to hear it.

He slid into bed next to her, and she climbed on top of him, sliding a leg between his and covering his body with her gentle weight and he wrapped his arm around her. Her breasts were soft against his chest. And they were kissing again, softer than before but needier. He cupped her head in his hand gently like she would break if he touched her. He felt her soft hand on his side, caressing his skin.

She pulled away slightly, teasing him again, needing to feel him need her, and oh gods did he ever need her. He followed her movements,  _please don't pull away, I need you. Don't you dare._

She must have pushed him too far because quite suddenly he flipped her over, dominating her. And that submissive feeling came back, stronger than before. The wetness between her thighs suddenly felt cool air as he parted her thighs with his knees. She was so wet that his cock accidentally slipped in, just from the change in positions, and she gasped. Nothing had ever felt so wonderful.

_Wet as a baby seal,_  Tormund's words of wisdom echoed in Jon's head.

_Gods, he was a proper lover,_ thought Daenerys. No one had ever taken the time or thought to make sure she was so wet and needing beforehand, like he had. Daario had just put it in when she was still a bit dry, clumsy as he was though never bad, and Drogo had always shoved it in, like it was his right. It had always slightly hurt, and she had just assumed that was part of sex, but Jon Snow had shown her the error of her ways. She would never accept anything less again. And something told her she wouldn't have to.

He would always take care of her. She knew it deep down in her heart. She would never be alone in the world ever again with him by her side. She would never be raped or abused or used ever again. She would not allow it, but neither would  _he_. In all her years of life, she had never met a man like Jon Snow, King in the North.  _Hers_. And he would  _protect her. Even when she didn't think she needed it._

She felt his forehead against hers and his hot breath on her mouth. She couldn't breathe and yet couldn't do anything but, holding him tightly as he cradled her beneath him. She had never been in this position before, but it felt so natural and wonderful and simple. This was where she was meant to be.

Her legs fell further apart. His hand came above her head but did not touch, but rested on the pillow, and she felt safe and protected.

He moved deeper into her, and she was so wet it didn't hurt a bit. He pulled back, and her muscles tightened around him. He drew his tongue up her mouth and nose.  _Gods,_  she thought, her heart racing. "Yeah," he breathed, in response to her walls tightening.

He thrusted into her again, so deep that she felt him hit a spot deep within her, she moaned, exhaling a shaky breath of pleasure.

Then his lips captured hers, and she felt dizzy, even lying down. She pushed against his lips with need and desire, and he pushed back firmly, always there. Her heart raced. His heart raced. They felt complete, as one. Nothing in the world felt as perfect as the two of them.

And suddenly his lips were gone, and she gasped.  _No!_

Except he was looking at her.  _Into her._  His eyes…oh, gods, his  _eyes…_  and…Daenerys felt… _him_ …felt him  _inside_  her heart…she felt it… _burst,_  a sudden explosion of such a strong feeling that she could not define. It was so strong it made her weak. And suddenly she knew…she knew that she would give up everything for this man, give him anything he wanted….give him anything… even the Iron Throne.  _Love comes in at the eyes, Khaleesi._  And suddenly she understood. Everything finally made sense.

_She loved him._

Jon knew, looking into her eyes. Suddenly, he knew. He felt it in his heart. He would never, ever leave her. No matter what duty called him. If they failed and the White Walkers took over the world, he would take her and run. Suddenly, he knew.  _Love is the death of duty,_  and Maester Aemon's words finally made sense. His father's actions now made sense. Suddenly  _everything_  made sense.

_And he loved her._

" _He's never been a bastard. He's the Heir to the Iron Throne."_

Drawn to each other, like magnets, their lips met again, and fire consumed them.

How long they made love, Daenerys did not know. It could have been hours. Could have only been a few minutes. But they were the most wonderful moments of her life. Nothing compared to the feeling of him thrusting into her, and her hips coming up to meet his. His cock hit that sweet spot over and over and over again until she came, hard and slow, Her body arching like she was possessed by spirits to meet his hips, pulsing, moaning, and when he felt her come, he could not hold it a second longer. He let out deep gusts of breath as his seed spilled deep into her womb, and she moaned as she felt the hot jets of cum hit the back of her as her walls spasmed rhythmically in time with his heavy, hot sighs.

She doubted his seed would quicken, but hope crashed in like a painful tidal wave.  _Please give me a child, Jon Snow,_  she thought, wildly, irrationally,  _begged._

_Please._

They lay there together as their pleasures faded, his cock growing soft inside her as he still thrust gently and slowly to bring them both back down. She could feel his seed settle deep inside her more with every thrust. They stroked each other's faces and hair and looked into each other's eyes, unable to look away. His fingers brushed her temples and every stroke furthered softened the muscles in her face and body. A warm glow grew from within her. The raging fire had faded to soft, glowing, undulating embers, and she suddenly felt very sleepy.

They kissed again, softer, more gently. A slow-burning kiss that made them both sigh heavily at the end of it. He buried his face in her neck and she felt the full weight of him on top of her. She felt herself fully relax for the first time in a very, very long time. And so did Jon.

They just lay there together, fully inhaling each other's scent, enjoying the feeling of their warm afterglow, and Jon softening slowly inside of her, warm and snug and safe.

Dany began to doze.

She woke suddenly after what felt like ages, but in reality could have only been a few moments, to him rolling off her, and his seed spilled a bit. She quickly clamped her hand firmly over her hole, preventing anymore from spilling out, and resettled herself, snuggling up into his chest, removing her hand and placing it on his chest. She pressed her thighs together and angled her body so she felt it drip deeper into her instead of sliding out. He wrapped his strong arms around her, cradling her. They tucked their feet underneath the loose covers, and Jon pulled them up above her shoulders and held her tightly, and she felt warm and safe as she felt the steady  _thump, thump, thump_  of his heart.

"I love you, Jon Snow," she whispered gently.

His head raised, his hand cupped her jaw, guided her to look up at him. He looked deeply into her eyes.

"I love you, my Queen," he murmured. And she felt her heart explode one last time as her kissed her, ever so gently.

And together, they fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, without nightmares or vivid dreams of falling dragons and ice and the dead. No fear of the long night could touch them in their soft, candlelit cabin where their love burned so brightly in the dark.

For the night is dark and full of terrors.

But they could face them.

Together.


	2. Love and Politics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: alright, y'all convinced me. Here you go. What happens after. Got damn this ship is going to kill me. I WILL GO DOWN WITH IT.  
> (please note that everything is copy/pasted from fanfiction.net, and not all of the Author's Notes there will apply here on Ao3 just remember to leave kudos and a comment if you loved it!)

**JON**

Jon woke with a start sometime in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. His heart was racing. Visions of falling dragons and ice and the dead burned in the back of his eyelids ...all his loved ones, every single one...and at the front...Daenerys, naked and dead, flesh rotting off her bones, holding a baby with terrifying blue eyes.

" _Jon..."_ she had whispered eerily, voice dead and hollow and raspy with decay.

He squeezed his eyelids shut tight, trying to burn the image away. Opened them again to dimly lit planks above his head. The candles had nearly burned low. The baby's cries rang in his ears like the chilling sound of three blows of the horn.

He turned his head to his right. She lay with her back to him, sleeping soundly, soft little snores vibrating in his heart. Her silver hair shimmered in the candlelight mixed with the moonlight streaming through the window.

Terror gripped his heart.

_The dead were coming._

He felt it, more and more everyday. The longer it went on, the more terrified he was. This...waiting...traveling...it was taking too long. He needed to be at the wall  _now_ with a host of men and women and his back to fight the dead.

He leaned over and kissed her hair. Daenerys stirred, but did not wake. He sighed. Sat up.

Jon placed his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes hard, still unable to burn the image from his mind.

_Daenerys._

Gods, why  _now._ Why  _here._  Why now, at the end of the world, was he only allowed to find this? Find  _her?_  Find  _love_  like  _this?_

He drew a deep, heavy sigh. His heart rate was slowly returning to normal.

He leaned back, over his Queen again. Hooked a finger around her silver curls and pulled them behind her ear. Kissed the skin now exposed and down her neck. She stirred. Her eyes opened a sliver.

"I'm going to go take a piss," he whispered softly. "I'll be back."

She nodded sleepily. He kissed her cheek again and she smiled half a smile. He softened. Oh, how he'd fallen.

He stood, dressed as quiet as he could, leaving his armor behind and only putting on his fur-lined leather shirt. He checked to make sure the coast was clear before leaving Daenerys' cabin, then went above decks.

Only a small skeleton crew piloted the ship this late at night. He nodded to the helmsman, who nodded back and returned his eyes to the open sea.

It was beautiful out here, fresh sea air filling his nostrils, moonlight bouncing off of the calm sea. Rhagael paddled softly in the water at some distance away, moonlight reflecting off of his green scales. He watched as the the dragon took a long draw of water and puffed, smoke and steam rising from his nostrils. Jon inhaled deeply at the same time as the dragon, his deep breath finished long before Rhagael's giant lungs had filled even halfway.

The air was slightly chilly, and he felt the heat that he had garnered over the night quickly disippate. He shivered once more and sighed.

Jon walked to the edge of the ship and took out his cock to piss over the side. The air filled with the scent of sex that lingered on his cock.

Daenerys' beauty filled his mind once more, and made it slightly difficult to piss as he grew slightly hard. He winced and forced it out.

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._

He heard footseps behind him and he turned his head.

"Snow," said Tyrion.

"Tyrion," Jon replied.

Tyrion stood beside him at a decent distance and also pulled out his cock. The hard sound of his stream hitting the water below filled the night. Jon continued pissing.

"Beautiful night," said Tyrion.

"Yes," said Jon.  _He has no reason to know,_ Jon thought firmly.

"I am sure our Queen would appreciate this beauty," said Tyrion slyly.

_Fuck, he knows._

Nevertheless, Jon played along.

"I'm sure she would," said Jon.

Overhead, he heard a soft, deep growl. He looked up to see Drogon flying in circles overhead, ever watchful. The Dragon tilted his head and one of his great red eyes met Jon's briefly, examining him, looking straight into his soul, before looking out to sea again. Jon shivered. They were so much more intelligent that he had ever thought.  _Not just beasts._

"Our Queen has not recovered from the loss of her child yet, I think," said Tyrion softly. He had finished pissing and now he was watching Rhaegal with a tight expression on his face.

"No," said Jon softly in agreement, shaking off and putting away his cock. "I don't think she quite...believes it happened. Not really."

Jon had felt grief before, many times, had seen it in many men and women in his short life, had seen it  _destroy_  many men and women; but he didn't think he would ever understand...hoped he would never understand... how it felt to lose a child. Much less a child that was one of the last great wonders of its kind, such a marvel of a beast that all around the world were in awe and fear of it. He thought back to when he had touched Drogon's hard, scaly smooth snout. The heat that had radiated from him and filled Jon with fire. His heart mourned for one less in the world.

"It was a reckless thing," said Tyrion, jaw tight. "Her going to your rescue. Reckless. Foolish. She shouldn't have done it. I advised her not to, but she wouldn't listen to me. She had to save you."

Jon didn't answer. He avoided looking at the dwarf, eyes fixed on Rhaegal out to sea. He could feel the dwarf's eyes burning into him.

"Love makes people do reckless, stupid things without a thought to the realm, Jon Snow."

He could hear some unspoken pain and anger in Tyrion's voice and finally looked at him.

"I know that," he said. He could not help the bite in his voice, feeling strangely defensive. Of course he knew that, he'd seen it. Heard about it. Read about it in history books, how two people's love for each other would almost always make the world burn and the common folk reap the consequences.

"Do you?" said Tyrion. "Because I'm not so sure. This relationship you are forming with our Queen-"

"I'm not-" he said defensively.

Tyrion silenced him with a look.

"I may be a foolish, drunken dwarf, but I'm not an idiot, Jon Snow. Nor am I blind. It's in my job description to know what goes on behind closed doors, especially in regards to our Queen. It's in my job description to protect her from all threats, political and otherwise."

Jon sighed.

"Look I don't know how you found out-I don't care. But what happens between her and whoever she chooses to spend her nights with is her business, and hers alone."

Tyrion shook his head.

"You know nothing of politics, Jon Snow," he said, his eyes hard. "This is not like a battle, or a fight against the dead, or wildlings. Politics is a long game. If you don't learn how to play it, you'll be as dead as those beyond the wall before you know it."

Jon swallowed, anger rising.

"You don't-"

"Jon, I'm speaking as your friend and as the Queen's Hand. I don't wish to anger you."

Jon huffed and looked back out to sea, watched Rhagael groom underneath a wing. The moonlight shone green through the outstreched translucent wing. He sighed again.

They were quiet for a moment.

"When we left Meeren," started Tyrion. "Daenerys had to leave a lover behind, a man she thought she loved but told me she had felt nothing when ending it. She had done the right thing. She knew it, I knew it. She had to leave him behind."

Jon didn't know why Tyrion was telling him this.

"When we reached Westeros, we would need to form alliances. Strong alliances that could not easily be broken, not even with time. I told you, politics is a long game. We would need to secure an alliance that would last for life, long beyond the War with Cersei. Long after Daenerys sat on the Iron Throne. I knew this going in. She did too, I think."

"Marriage," Jon realized, his heart sinking.

"You learn quickly, Jon Snow. Very good."

Jon's heart sanker deeper.

"I didn't know who it would be," Tyrion continued. "However, I knew she would need to be unmarried and unattached. My mind ran through several options. There was Loras Tyrell, after all, the Reach is the second richest house in the seven kingdoms, they would be a powerful ally. Although that idea got blown up along with the Sept, courtesy of my  _dear_ sister. There was Dickon Tarly, after that, a second, less powerful house, but the next most logical to take over the reach after the death of the Tyrells...although that went up in flames as well. Perhaps a Dornish prince? For sure, they were one of weaker alliances with a powerful position. There would always be one of the many sons of Walder Frey, perhaps? The twins is a strategically valuable position...although  _Winter Came for House Frey_ , as the common folk whisper. Good riddance. They were a terrible family, with no loyalty, and capable of much worse things than even the Red Wedding. That never would have been my first choice, only as a last resort."

"Get to the point," muttered Jon. Tyrion ignored him.

"And then there was my brother, who, although he would hate it as much as she would, would make a very strong, powerful alliance and put an end to the war in a swift stroke. Though, of course Cersei would never go along with that...for reasons you and I both know. She wants Jamie all to herself. And she would never give him up to her worst enemy, of all people. I do believe my dear sister hates our Queen more than she does me now...which is saying something."

They both exchanged a look. Tyrion's lips twitched upwards.

Jon felt his heart, which was so full only hours ago, sink deeper and deeper into a deep black crevice that it would never escape from. He thought he knew what Tyrion was getting at here. His face fell as he looked back out at Rhaegal.

"And you don't think it would be appropriate for a bastard of Winterfell, with a false title of King in the North to marry the most powerful woman in the world."

Tyrion was silent for a long time as Jon felt his heart breaking. He could feel his eyes boring into him.

"Quite the opposite, actually," said Tyrion softly. Jon looked at him. "A marriage alliance between the Rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the King in the North is quite a powerful alliance indeed."

Jon felt his lips part. His heart jumped into his throat.

"It has a precedence," he continued, "and I do believe it is our only shot at convincing the Northern Lords to accept our Queen while keeping you, who has already bent the knee, in power.

"Aside from that, our Queen has the largest army. The North-which you control-has the second largest army. Winterfell and the North is a strategic location that we cannot afford to lose- _especially_  in regards to the threat beyond the wall, and with Winter here. I  _am_ glad you decided to bend the knee."

Tyrion smiled weakly at Jon.

"But I'm afraid it won't be enough for your people. You were elected. You can be un-elected. And Northerlings are strange, fickle beings. If they do not accept your fealty to our Queen, they will put someone else in your place-I am sure of it. Sansa being the most likely choice, and, personally, I think she would make a wonderful  _Warden_  of the North. And that is a very distinct difference from  _Queen_  in the North.

"And contrary to what you may believe-I do  _not_  want you to lose your title as  _King_  in the North _."_

Tyrion was silent.

Jon took a deep, shaky breath.

"So you mean-"

"Yes," said Tyrion sadly. "I was going to advise Daenerys that she marry  _you_. You are her age, young, strong, relatively handsome-unmarried. In a powerful position as King in the North, which,  _I_ believe, far overpowers your bastard status, and makes you worthy...not that being a Noble really matters anymore anyway, the last two Kings to sit on the Iron Throne were bastards anyway. Plus you have achieved many great deeds in your life and your time at the wall and afterwards.  _You_ were by far the superior choice to anyone else in the world."

Jon took another heavy breath. His heart was hammering. He looked out at Rhaegal, was silent as he watched the great green dragon spread his wings and take off out of the water with great gusts of wind and spray of the sea cause by several heavy flaps of his massive wings. Jon Snow watched, as Rhagael let out a roar and flew into the air to join his brother. His heart was soaring again with the Dragon.  _He could marry Daenerys._

"- _But-"_  began Tyrion, bringing Jon back down to reality with a hard crash.  _Anything before the word 'But' is horseshit._ "I did not want it like this."

Jon felt his heart break.

"What do you mean?" he said, confused.

"Feelings only complicate the matter. Like I said,  _love..."_  he  _spat_ the word out, like he despised it. "Only makes people reckless. It brings into question every desicion a person makes. The northern lords, superstitious,  _simplistic_  folk as they are, will think you have been bewitched by the dragon queen-a foreigner who only wants you for strategy. It does not matter what the truth is-and you cannot hide it. More will see. More  _have_ seen than I would already have liked. You are completely and utterly in love with her. It complicates things. Extremely."

Jon hung his head. He could not deny it. He knew he would not  _try_ to deny it.

"It shouldn't matter," he said.

"No, it shouldn't," said Tyrion sadly. He looked at Jon softly. "I don't  _blame_ you, you know. You're not the first to fall for our Queen and you certainly won't be the last. She is a very- _extraodinary_ -woman."

Jon looked at him, brow furrowed.

"Do you-?"

Tyrion let out a burst of laughter, loud and hard. But Jon knew he was masking a severe internal pain. "Me? No.  _No._ No, I will never love again."

That piqued Jon's curiosity. Though he knew if he asked, Tyrion would lie. He was very good at it.

"Tyrion-"

"Don't ask what you don't want to know, Jon Snow."

Tyrion's face was a hard, painful mask.

Jon was silent for a moment.

"I do," said Jon, in his heavy northern accent. "You're right. I do - I love her. Nothing could stop that now, I tried to resist, but...she's...she's..." he could not describe it. But Tyrion seemed to understand. The dwarf nodded his head.

"And she loves you," said Tyrion, looking at him.

Jon was silent.

"You know, it's funny. I've seen the Dragon Queen do so many things. Wonderful things.  _Terrible_ things. I've seen her seek her counselors advice. I've seen her threaten her advisers. I've seen her tell them to come to her if they ever had doubts about her rule-to  _tell her_ if she made a questionable decision instead of plotting behind her back... I've seen her free slaves. I've seen her capable of great compassion and I've seen her capable of great cruelty for those who would harm the innocent. She is ruthless and yet compassionate. I've seen her set people on fire with her dragons and I've seen her torn apart as she locked them away because they killed a sheepherder's son. She seeks the advice of those wiser than her, weighs all of her options, and then makes her own that are a far better solution than anyone could have offered her before. I have seen her make many mistakes and she always knew the moment she had made them and learns from them- _that_ is a rare gift. She is a remarkable woman. She will make an extraordinary queen. Far better than my sister. Or cruel  _Joffery._ Or weak Tommen-rest his poor little soul-She will be far better than foolish Robert Baratheon ever was. Far -  _far -_ better than the Mad King. But only-

"Only with the right  _people_  by her side.

"She continually...surprises me. I should expect it by now. I thought I'd seen everything from her. I never thought-I  _never_  thought I would see her fall in love. But she has. with you, of all people. The Bastard of Winterfell." Tyrion said with some amusement. "I have to say, I did not see this coming when I met you in Winterfell's courtyard all those years ago, Jon Snow."

They exchanged a long look. Tyrion's face faltered.

"Do you remember what I said to you?" Tyrion asked, face hard and sharp and intelligent.

"All dwarves are bastards in their fathers eyes." Jon repeated his word's from so long ago.

"Aye, and what else did I say?"

Jon took a deep breath.

"Wear it like armor, so it can never be used to hurt you."

They exchanged a long, knowing look.

"Wise words that I've taken to heart," said Jon after a while.

"I've had to remind myself ... more than a few times." mumbled Tyrion.

They were silent for a long moment, both deep in thought.

"I do believe, Jon, you will make a wonderful King for our Queen," said Tyrion finally. "But you must wear your love for each other like armor against the world. So that it might never be used to hurt you. And it will. Believe me. They will use it to hurt you."

Tyrion's voice broke. Jon thought he saw Tyrion's eyes grow shiny, but the small man who was more akin to a giant looked out to sea, hiding his eyes from Jon. There was a very long moment of silence.

"What was her name?" Jon asked quietly and carefully after a while.

Tyrion was silent for a very long time. For a moment Jon thought he might not answer but finally he did.

" _Shae_ ," he murmered silently, the name rolling off his tongue softly, like it was simultaneously the most beautiful and ugliest word to him. It sounded like smooth river rocks coming from the back of his throat, strangling him.

Jon was silent for a moment.

"What happened to her?" he asked quietly.

Tyrion's face grew into a cold, hard scowl.

"I strangled her after I found her in my father's bed."

He looked at Jon, and their eyes met with a sharp jolt. Jon knew he saw tears in the Lannister's eyes then. And Jon suddenly realized it would be  _very_ dangerous to cross this man.

"Love is a powerful and dangerous thing, Jon Snow," he said seriously, his voice was barely more than a cracked whisper. "You could get lost in it. You both could. Don't forget your duty. Don't forget  _her_ duty. And don't- _whatever you do-Don't_  let them use it against you."

And then he was gone.

Jon took a deep, shaky breath, swaying silently with the rocking of the boat, staring out to sea, his eyes wide, deep in thought, his throat tight. He watched the dragons fly above him for a long time, until he finally decided to return below decks, to his Queen.

He stripped naked again and lay down beside her, pulling her to him and spooning her body with his, clinging to her like she was the only thing that mattered. Kissed her neck as she snuggled deeper into his arms, wiggling her bottom so that his cock nestled between her legs.

"I love you, Daenerys Targaryen. My Queen," he breathed in her ear. "I will never let any one hurt you. I will never let anyone hurt us."

Her eyes flickered open sleepily and she twisted to met his eyes. Her gaze softened, but her brows bowed, growing worried.

"What happened, Jon?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said softly. "Just...let me hold you."

Her face softened. Her fingers brushed his cheek. She kissed him softly. He felt his cock twitch.

They broke apart.

"I love you too, Jon Snow. Whatever it is, we can face it together."

He smiled softly. Nodded.

"Yeah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: yeah, yeah, no sex. But conversations with Tyrion. Just as important. Trust me, you haven't seen the last of Jon riding the dragon. Proud of this one :) Please REVIEW!


	3. This I Vow

**DAENERYS**

Dany woke to the gentle rolling of the boat. The first thing she became noticably aware of was something very hard pressed between her thighs and a strong chest at her back.

She smiled softly.

_Jon._

She snuggled closer to him and he shifted, pulling her tighter and letting out a deep sigh.

_Jon._

She had never woken up with a man before. Drogo had always left her tent sometime in the middle of the night, and she had almost always sent Daario away after they were done.

This was a nice change.

He really felt like he was here to stay.

_Jon._

For the first time in a long time, she felt at peace. She'd had a dreamless night. No visons of death. No dead, scaly babies. No terrifying sights of her child falling through the air.

She had needed a good nights sleep.

She felt clear-headed and strong.

She twisted around to bury her face in Jon's chest and inhaled his scent deeply, wrapping her leg around his hips.

He stirred and opened his eyes sleepily at her.

"Good morning," he said groggily.

"Good morning," she responded, a smile pulling at her lips.

His hand came up from her waist to stroke her hair.

"How did you sleep?" he murmered.

"Wonderfully," she whispered, breathless. "And you?"

She saw a flicker of something on his face, but it quickly faded.

"Finally had a peaceful night," he said.

She remembered suddenly.

"What happened? Last night you left to go make water, and then you came back and you..."

His face fell.

"I ran into Tyrion."

She suddenly turned to stone.

"And?" she said, a note of regality finding a way back into her voice. She hadn't realized how soft her voice had turned when she spoke to him alone. How vulnerable.

Jon sighed. Looked away. Then looked back at her.

"He knows."

Daenerys suddenly felt very betrayed. Her heart turned to ice.

"I didn't tell him, before you ask. He worked it out by himself."

"How?" she asked coldly.

"I don't know, I didn't ask. It's not what matters-"

"Not what matters?" she pulled away from him, cold, and sat up on the bed. Jon's face fell.

"Daenerys," he said softly. She refused to look at him. He must have given it away somehow, betrayed her, and she didn't want everyone to know yet. She wanted to enjoy this short time they had together on this boat. She felt hurt that he would let Tyrion-of all people-in on this secret. He would find someway to use it, and she didn't want her love for Jon to be  _used._

He reached up to cup her chin. Gently turned her head to look into his eyes. She felt herself melt-but only slightly.

"He thinks we should get married."

Her mouth fell open. She bristled. How  _dare he-?_

"So do I," said Jon firmly.

Daenerys sat stunned.

How dare he. How dare both of them. Conspire about her fate behind her back like she didn't exist. Like her opinion didn't matter. She was the  _Queen. She_ made the descions, not Tyrion Lannister, not Jon Snow.

It didn't matter that she had been thinking it, too. Had thought about it. Knew it was the logical course. Suddenly she felt very much like a helpless little girl again, being sold off to the highest bidder. She felt betrayed. She felt powerless. She wanted to curl up in a ball and ignore all of them,  _men,_  deciding her fate like they  _owned_ her. How dare they. She had worked  _hard_ to not feel like this ever, ever again.

But...

She  _had_ already been thinking it. And Tyrion was much smarter than anyone in the world, of course he would know. Of course he would connect the dots.  _Of course_ he would see the little glances between them and work out what they meant. And politically, a marriage to Jon Snow would make perfect sense.

But still, how  _dare_ he discuss this with Jon Snow before her. He was  _her_ hand,  _not_  the King in the North's. Jon Snow sat up. She watched him, wary. But his eyes still held that softness. He knew he'd overstepped his bounds and now he sat, sheepish. She softened. She would give him the benefit of the doubt.

"What did he say?"

So he explained to her, in detail, everything they had discussed. Tyrion had worked it out, somehow, and broached the subject of their relationship. They discussed her and Tyrion's conversation in Meeren after she had left Daario. Tyrion had told Jon that a marriage alliance was inevitable. How he had listed off people she had never known and people she had despised as possible marriage candidates. Including  _Jamie Lannister-_ something she would have to discuss with Tyrion about later (because how dare the thought even cross his mind, was he  _sure_ where his loyalties lied?); how Jon had doubted that he would have ever been put on that list because he was a bastard-but Tyrion had said, no, in fact, he was Tyrion's first choice.

"But it was us he was worried about," Jon said. "Our feelings for each other. Whatever this is, whatever we want it to be. He was worried it would only complicate things. That my people would think you had bewitched me somehow with foreign magic. He said...in so many words...that ' _love is the death of duty.'_ That it would make us reckless, and forget our duties. Make us weak."

Jon's eyes fell. He sighed with a great weight.

"He said they would use it against us, to hurt us. That we had to use our love like armor against the world."

Dany felt her heart crack a little bit. Her hand was right. He was very rarely wrong. The cruelty of the world  _would_ use their love against them, and they had to fortify their hearts against it, and protect each other. So that their love did not make them forget their place in this world. They both had to save the people they were pledged to. She placed her fingertips under his chin, raised his head to look into her eyes.

"This... _this..._ what this is...this is real. Our feelings...for each other. It will not be weakness. I won't let it.  _We_ won't let it. It will make us  _strong_ , not weak."

"He said there was no way to hide it...our feelings would show through."

"Nor should we," she said fiercely.

They gazed into each other's eyes.

Jon's eyes became dark again with lust.

"Do you want this? Us? This, here now, and a marriage, with everything that comes with that?"

Dany thought. Conflicted. She wasn't sure if she should commit without talking to her advisors, but hadn't she just said that  _she_ was the Queen? And Tyrion seemed to have already given his blessing...

"My Queen," he said, his eyes pleading. "I would not have come here last night if I knew there was even a slight possiblity that the answer to that question was 'no'."

Her gaze softened.

"Of course I do, Jon, I just...I don't like you both conspiring behind my back. It makes me feel like I'm being sold to the highest bidder."

"That was never my intention," he said quickly, harshly. "I didn't know I would run into Tyrion. I didn't know he would figure it out. Not before we figured out what  _this_ was anyway."

"And what is,  _this?_ " said Daenerys softly.

He looked down.

"Daenerys, you should know something about me. You know I grew up a bastard. You've no idea what that was like. How it made me feel. I swore to myself I would never lie with a woman, because I didn't want to bring  _another bastard_ into the world. And I still feel that way. I don't sleep with women idly. I've only ever been in front of a whore once...my brother paid her, thought it was time for me to lie with a woman. But I couldn't. I couldn't do it. I couldn't add another Snow to the world."

_Was he a virgin? No way was he a virgin. He was too good._

"I know what you're thinking and I'm not. I  _have_ been with a woman before. I committed myself to her. A wilding girl with fiery red hair. I loved her, and she loved me. I knew I would never leave her. We were married in our hearts."

"What happened?" said Daenerys softly. He heaved a great sigh. Pain flickered across his features, and she suspected he had never talked about this with anyone before.

"She was killed by an arrow to the heart from my  _brother_ " -he spat the word- "of the Night's Watch. I held her as she died. I burned her body beyond the wall. I wouldn't ever want her to become one of those  _things._ "

Her heart ached. She knew his pain.  _Gods,_ she knew that pain. she still carried it with her in her heart.

"Jon...I understand. I too lost my  _shekh ma shieraki anni._ My  _sun and stars._ I had to..."

Her voice caught in her throat. Her hands curled together in her lap.

"The Witch who killed him brought him back to life as a husk of a man after I begged her to use blood magic. She sacrificed his horse and my child...though I did not know the price would be so high. He could do naught, not speak, not recognize his surroundings. He didn't even know I was there. Didn't even recognize me."

Tears filled her eyes. He filled her hands with his, and she felt the strength to continue.

"I couldn't watch it any longer. He was not my husband. He was not a  _Khal._ He was not a warrior. He was not even human. I suffocated him with a pillow. I burned his body and that foul witch alive in the funeral pyre and fire that birthed my dragons."

She looked up. He gave her hands a gentle squeeze.

"I shoud have died in that fire. But something told me I wouldn't.  _Zaldrīzo ānogar iksan._  I am the Blood of the Dragon."

"Daenerys," he whispered gently. Her heart began to race. she felt the fire burn her veins.

They exchanged a long look. His eyes grew dark and husky again.

"I don't know what it is," she continued. "I don't know why I should have this power when my brothers, my father...did not...this power has not graced our family since we lost the dragons ages ago. But I  _am_ , for some reason I cannot explain...I am the Unburnt. Fire courses through my veins. And fire cannot kill a dragon. Do you understand?"

She did not expect him to. She didn't know how to explain why or how. All she knew was that she could never be burnt, not even by dragonfire. And it had made her strong.

He had that look on his face again. Dark and husky and needing. The same look as when he had knocked on her door last night.

"I think, right now...I think I do," he murmured.

She felt trapped by those eyes again.

"It's the same feeling that calls me to you," she finished.

"Daenerys," he said huskily, "I want you to know what this is to me. You have to understand. I don't lie with woman unless I intend to spend the rest of my life with them. Daenerys, I want to spend my days with you...what little might be left. Regardless of the political reasons, they don't matter. Not really. Whatever the threat, I love you."

She softened. And finally she forgave him for speaking to Tyrion behind her back.

"Im glad," she whispered. "I want to spend my days with you, too, Jon Snow. For I love you as well. I never thought I would again, but here I am. I love you."

They were so close now...

She firmed her grasp in his hands. He squeezed back, a thumb brushing the back of her hand.

"Daenerys," he whispered. And she melted before him.

"Jon," she murmured against his lips.

Their lips melted together like soft pads of sweet cream, tounges gently entwined together. Soft and sweet. His hand cupped her head.

She moaned into his mouth and he swallowed her lips again, hand firmly holding her head.

"Oh, my Queen," he whispered, pulling back. "I want to be your King."

Her heart raced. Suddenly that feeling was back, of submissiveness, the need for her to submit to whatever he wanted.  _Whatever he wants, I will give it to him._

Her breath sharpened, and with a husky growl he guided her down- _threw her down_ -to the pillows and covered herself with his body. Her legs quickly spread apart, welcoming him. She was already so wet, still slick with his seed from the night before. He kissed his way down and this time she knew it was coming, as he placed his lips on hers between her legs. And she let out a low sigh.

 _"My king,"_  she moaned.

He growled. Gripped her tighter, burrowing his nose deep into her folds, inhaling deeply. Gods, there was something so beautiful about that. Her heart pounded and her breath was short.

He encircled her nub with his tounge, hot breath lighting her very soul on fire.

_Dracarys._

He breathed fire into her loins.

His swept the flat of his tongue against the entirety of her slit suddenly, and she moaned aloud.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, and he moaned, growling like the White Wolf he was, and began to  _eat her_ , really,  _eat her_  with fervor _...gods..._

His tongue...his  _tongue_... could work magic, she decided. His mouth captured her lips fully, suckling and licking and probing and  _oh..._

And thought began to leave her body, there was only feeling. Her legs entwined around his arms and he squeezed her thighs tightly, holding himself to her bucking hips, relentless. Her hands found the messy half-bun on the back of his head and began to loosen it, working her fingers into his hair and grasping tightly.

He moaned again, deeper than before, sending vibration through her pelvis and up her spine and she shuddered.

 _"Jon,"_  she gasped.

She felt him grin against her lips.

Rythmically, he began to stroke with his tongue, slowly at first, and then quicker, faster, harder...and then he slowed again, sending waves of intense pleasure through her whole body. Then he sped up again, and on and on it went until Daenerys could take no more.

Then, suddenly, he pulled back, and locked eyes with her.

She couldn't breathe.

Then,  _then,_  he set her on fire and sent chills through her whole body by blowing, very gently, cool air over her lips.

She let out a stuttered little moan, and gripped the bedsheets tightly between her hands, her back arching up to meet his face again, which he gladly accepted, smashing his mouth onto her lips, quicker, faster, intensely...and then he let go of a leg and slipped a finger inside her, hooking it around the large nub behind her pelvic bone, and wave after wave of pleasure convulsed her whole body as he ate her alive, her walls tightening and releasing, powerfully...so powerfully she worried she might hurt his finger but he continued pushing at  _that spot_...not stopping as she whimpered and moaned, breathless, his tounge working circles around the tiny nub between her folds that was the center of every bit of pleasure in her body.

Her orgasm lasted forever. As it faded, she was left shaking and trembling. Her legs could not support their own weight anymore as they trembled and collapsed at Jon's sides. His tounge continued to work slowly, not releasing her from her pleasure and pain. Her body convulsed, twitching.  _She had never come so hard in her entire life._

But he did not stop there.

He released her, and suddenly he was there, suddenly his length in her was all she knew, and she saw nothing but waves of black and Jon's soft brown eyes hovering above her as he thrust into her, again and again and again and she came  _again,_  harder, deeper than before. She felt her whole womb convulse and then hot jets of his seed filled her up and they were both coming...coming... _coming..._

His lips captured hers. She could not breathe. She blacked out in a haze of pleasure.

She did not know when she regained her mobility, but she slowly returned to life, and was able to twitch her fingers sporadically through his hair - _how did her fingers get so tangled in it-_  and feel his warm, sporadic breath on her neck, his lips kissing her skin weakly. His weight pressed against her body-stopping her from floating away.

She felt soft tugs at her scalp as he gently stroked her hair between his thumb and fingers as a sensory feeling to bring himself back to life.

Daenerys just lay there, trying to catch her shattered breath.

"That was..." she gasped.

"Yeah," he murmered.

And he rolled off her gently but did not let her go, instead pulling her towards him, tucking her into his chest and reinserted his still-firm but softening member into her.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and burrowed her nose into his chest. Her whole body was trembling still, only his arms tightly around her held her together.

They lay there like that until their hearts had returned to a normal rythm and their breathing became relaxed and steady.

Daenerys had almost dozed off again when suddenly there was a knock on the door.

Both of them instantly sprang into high alert.

"Just a moment," called Daenerys, as she rushed to get a dressing gown.

"It's me," and Daenerys recognized Missandei's voice and instantly relaxed. She slipped her arms through the sleeves and wrapped the soft fabric around her naked body.

"It's alright," she told Jon, who was rushing to get his clothes back on with a terrified expression on his face. "It's Missandei."

Jon looked like he was about to protest, but she gave him a commanding look and, sheepish, returned to the bed and slipped under the covers.

Daenerys opened the door halfway and met her closest friend's eyes.

Instantly she knew something was up, and her eyes traveled to the bed, where Jon lay, blushing and studiously avoiding the two women, looking out the window.

Missandei stifled a smile and exchanged a knowing look with her Queen, who blushed and also stifled a smile.

"I'll come back later," said Missandei softly, corners of her mouth tight with amusement and happiness.

"Thank you," whispered Daenerys gratefully.

The two woman exchanged another knowing, happy look, then her part-haidmaiden-part-advisor-part-closest-friend left, and Dany shut the door.

"Gods," breathed Jon.

"She comes every morning to help me dress, she  _is_ my haidmaiden, translator, most trusted advisor and my closest friend, my sister in all but blood. She will not tell a soul."

Jon huffed softly.

"Doesn't help me recover from my heart attack," he mumbled.

Daenerys grinned again.

"Oh, quit," he said, looking at her face. "I should go before someone less trustworthy walks in that door."

Her face fell. She did not want him to leave.

"Oh," she said. "Right."

He stood. He had managed to get his tight leather pants on, his bare feet padded across the floor and she felt her wetness return as she stared at his bare chest coming towards her. The closer her got, the faster her heart raced. He slid a hand under her jaw and forced her to look at him. She softened once again at his touch and felt dizzy.

_Would this happen everytime, this feeling of being so...dizzy?_

"I'll come back again tonight," he murmed huskily. Her breath caught in her throat and she tried to retain her dignity.

"Good," she said, with all the authority of a Queen. "I will expect you."

"Good," he said, eyes dancing and mouth smiling-or was it a snarl? Gods, it made her hot.

His lips hovered a but a few hairs from hers but he did not touch as their eyes lowered to each other's lips. Her heart raced... _what was he waiting for?_

And suddenly he pulled away without kissing her, leaving her breathless and wanting. She watched, open-mouthed and in awe, the only thing supporting her the door at her back as her legs trembled, as he put his clothes back on, one by one and left her there, dying, aching with need. Did he know what he had just done to her? He must have known the effect it would have...

As he sat on the bed to pull his boots on, she watched him softly. Everything had changed.

He stood. Looked at her.

She loathed to be seperate from him, even for a moment.

"Jon..." she said shakily.

"Hey," he whispered, eyebrows furrowing, crossing the room in two long strides to capture her in his arms. "It's alright. Everything will be alright."

She buried her face in his leathers. His hand held her at the back of the head there, chin resting on her hair, and she took a few shuddering breaths, feeling such a release at his touch she was overwhelmed.

He held her tighter, buried his nose in her hair. After a while, they broke apart, and he cupped her face.

"I will come to you tonight," he said, looking deep into her eyes. His face was dead serious. "and tommorow night, and the night after that, and every night to come, my Queen. That I vow to you."

She cupped his face, overwhelmed.

"I will welcome you with open arms this night, and every night to come, Jon Snow. That  _I_  vow to  _you._ "

He pressed his forehead to hers.

"I am yours," he whispered. Her eyes widened. Her breath caught in her throat. "And you are mine."

"From this day," she said, voice quivering, "until the end of my days."

He kissed her, gently, softly, lovingly.

And then he left, closing the door softly behind him, leaving Daenerys to slide down the door behind him, breathless.

_Oh, Jon Snow..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: gaaaaaahhhhhh
> 
> I expire.
> 
> please REVIEW!


	4. Blood of the Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Y'all ain't ready for this shit.
> 
> I ain't even ready for this shit, and I wrote the damn thing.

**JON**

And he did-He came to her cabin that night, and the next night, and the night after that, and every night to come. They made love every night, and whispered promises in each other's ears, and their bond grew stronger and stronger by the day.

And every night she welcomed him with open arms, eagerly awaiting him.

During the day they made battle plans, and talked about armies and the dead, and they tried to avoid each other's eyes and stand as far apart as possible. She would watch him across the table, surly and serious, as he talked about what was to await them when they reached Winterfell, until he looked up and met her eyes. She would blush and his heart would soften for a moment before he steeled himself again and spoke of the ways the dead could be defeated.

It was chilly mid-day when they met above decks after a particularly grueling session where they had discussed the northern lords, and Tyrion had been strangely quiet. Marriage had yet to come up. Jon suspected he was waiting for something.

They were nearly three quarters of the way to White Harbor, and the mood on the ship had grown more tense the closer they got. Everyone knew what awaited them, and it made them somber.

But today was beautiful, and he couldn't stand to be cooped up any longer, so he'd gone above decks to breath the salty sea air and listen to the sea and watch the dragons.

He had spotted her at the bow, watching the dragons soar high above them, silver braid softly blowing in the wind. He watched her for a moment-just watched her. She wore her white fur coat she had worn beyond the wall-it had gotten so cold now that she'd needed it. The day was gray and cloudy and her hair glowed in the dimness like the sun had fled from behind the clouds and decided that is was to glow from her head, instead of the sky.

She was so beautiful.

He came up and stood beside her. She leaned closer, but they did not touch. He followed her gaze, watching the magnificent creatures circle high above them.

"They're beautiful," he said after a while. They more he had watched them, the more he had gotten over the fear and shock, the more in awe of them he grew. They truly were - _beautiful_  creatures.

"Yes," she said. He looked at her. Her cheeks were wet.

"Are you alright?"

She sighed. Her lip trembled, but she stood strong.

"He's really gone," she said quietly. "Viserion. He's really gone."

Her voice tore at his heart like knives. He wanted to take her in his arms then and there, as if he could squeeze the grief right out of her.

But he couldn't.

"Oh, love," he whispered, so only the two of them could hear. "I'm so sorry."

She did not respond, but leaned into him, closing her eyes in pain. He wanted to comfort her so badly.

"I can't take back what's happened, but I will do everything in my power to never let it happen again."

Her eyes lowered.

The dragons roared above them, as if they could sense and share her pain.

"I could tell them apart, you know," she said softly. "From a thousand miles away, I could tell their cries apart. But I never noticed ...not until one was gone."

Her voice broke and fell.

Jon stood closer to her, so that his thick furs obscured their hands from view, and grasped hers tightly. She held onto his like it was her lifeline. They stood there together and just breathed, sharing her grief together, listening to the sound of the ship crashing against the waves, and the roar of her two beautiful dragons, watching them.

After a while she sniffed heavily, sighed. She looked at him, and a questioning look sprang onto her face.

"You never got to ride one, beyond the wall, did you? Everyone else but you."

Jon frowned.

"No, and it's one of my greatest regrets. What a privilege that would have been."

"Would you like to now?"

His face snapped to hers.

"What?"

She looked at him. A mischevious smile tugged at her lips.

"Jon Snow, will you do me the honor of going for a ride with me?"

His jaw dropped. He was speechless.

"I'll take that as a yes," she smiled. She looked up at her dragons. Closed her eyes.

They roared.

And they dived.

Jon watched in open-mouthed amazement.

"How...?"

Daenerys smiled mysteriously.

Drogon dived into the water close, arching a spray of sea water over them all, and the ship rocked heavily with the wave created. Jon heard a few soft screams of surprise, but they quickly faded as they realized what it was. Daenerys turned away from the bow and Jon followed her.

Drogon swam up very close to the side of the ship, and stretched out his wing, spraying the deck with water made hot by his scales.

It was only a very small step from the side of the deck to the crook of his wing, and Daenerys made the leap easily, walking like a nimble cat along her dragon's wing. Drogon held very steady for her. She stood on his back and turned to Jon.

"Coming, Jon Snow?"

Jon took a deep, steadying breath. He was no coward, but this made him unsure at best.

And, displaying great bravery and trust in the beast before him, stepped off the deck and onto the knuckle of Drogon's wing. Shakily and unsteadily, he made his way towards Daenerys, keeping his eyes fixed on where he was planting his feet. He didn't know how she made it look so easy.

When he reached the more or less solid position of Drogon's shoulder blades, he threw himself down heavily, clinging to Drogon's scales tightly. Daenerys sat neatly in front of him, and Drogon returned his wing to his body and paddled a distance away from the boat.

Daenerys looked over her shoulder at him.

"Are you ready, Jon Snow?" she asked him. He knew she would not go till he said so. He settled in deeper and closer to Dany, arms on either side of her, grabbing the tips of the webbed spikes tightly, like he had seen Daenerys do before, behind the ones she held, his legs gripping tightly like he would a horse, but with difficulty, as it's back was so much wider. Drogon flicked his skin in response, like a horse might as a fly landed on it's skin, throwing Jon off balance and scaring the shit out of him.

"There's no need to grip so tight," said Daenerys. "We won't let you fall."

Jon tried to relax.

"Ready?" she asked again. Jon jerkily nodded his head. He saw her smile, wide and true.

" _Sōvēs!"_ shouted Daenerys, her voice rang high and true, and the dragon responded to her command.

Jon felt a jolt as the Drogon spread his wings and air rushed under them, heard the rush of wind and the spray of the salt sea, felt a heavy pull on himself, like he had suddenly become twice as heavy, as Drogon flapped again, and Jon couldn't help but cry out in surprise. And suddenly they were airborne, and the sea rushed beneath them.

His weight did not return to normal until another few flaps, and when he finally regained himself he felt himself trembling with adrenaline.  _They were flying._

"Woah," he managed to gasp out. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath. He heard his Queen laugh, high and free, and they rose even higher.

And Jon felt himself begin to relax and enjoy it.

His heart was hammering as he felt the salty, icy wind at his face. He could  _breathe_ agian, really breathe. He'd never felt so... _free._

"This is amazing!" he shouted over the wind.

Dany did not answer and for a second he feared she did not hear him, but he caught sight of a grin as she looked over Drogon's back to check their height.

"Hang on!' she shouted. Jon's eyes widened and he gripped tighter.

And she dived.

His heart lept into his throat as he suddenly felt weightless.

Her shouts of excitement rang in his ears and he felt a laugh work it's way up his throat.

_Was this what it meant to be truly free?_

Drogon roared.

Jon laughed, a true laugh such as he never had in his life, without restraint. His whole body shook with it as he screamed his freedom to the heavens and Daenerys's voice called out to match his.

_This is how it's supposed to be._

It was the best feeling in the world.

Daenerys pulled Drogon up again and they were soaring, higher and higher above the sea. and when the air became thin, Daenerys turned Drogon and he pulled and dived and twisted. Jon felt weightless and free as they dived and then solid and heavy as he pulled up, as she took them for a  _real_ ride.

Jon had never enjoyed himself so much in his life. For the first time in his life, he felt all of his burdens lift, and he was free.

Jon looked down.

The ship was a tiny little speck. The coast, which he hadn't been able to see from the ship, now seemed so close to it, only a stone's throw, really. He could see tiny little people moving around on the ship, calling to each other, some of them with their heads tilted up, watching them fly. He couldn't make out who the faces belonged to.

"It seems we have an audience!" said Jon.

Daenerys looked down. A flicker of annoyance fled across her face, but it soon passed and she grinned, leaning back and meeting Jon's eyes with a mischievious glance.

"Well, let's give them a show, then," she said. She looked back at him. He grew nervous.

"Do you trust me, Jon Snow?" she asked. He looked into her eyes.

"Yes," he said softly. Daenerys smiled gently.

"Then hang on."

Jon gripped his spikes tighter and clenched his legs.

And they dived once more. The wind sped past them, rushing in Jon's ears and he was weightless once again. But Daenerys didn't pull up again. They dived, hard and fast. He heard her laughing and he knew she was about to do something unexpected. He braced himself.

"Daener-"

" _DRACARYS!"_ she shouted.

Suddenly he was terrified. He ducked behind her, knowing she was immune, but acutely aware that he was not, and they were engulfed in hot flames as it rolled from Drogon's mouth into a giant fireball.

He felt the heat engulf him, and he cried out, expecting to smell at any moment the burning of his hair and skin and flesh.

But the flames did not touch him.

It rolled around them and over them, slipping over Drogon's wings like water, a barrier of protection created by the wind against Drogon's scales and broken by his neck and head. They burst through the flames and onto the other side, and he heard Drogon roar and echoes of screams from below as Drogon's wings stiffened, turning them upwards again into the sky.

"DID YOU KNOW THAT WOULDN'T KILL ME?" he shouted at her, aghast, his heart hammering.

She looked back and grinned.

 _"Daenerys,"_ he screamed to the wind. She only laughed. and he let out the breath that had caught in his throat and began to laugh.

 _Gods, this woman,_  he thought, heart leaping.

She flew them high up into the sky again.

After a while the faces below lost interest and went back to whatever they were doing.

Jon felt himself relax again, heart rate returning to normal. He leaned into Daenerys.

There was a moment of calm, with only the wind whistling in his eyes and the wind at his face. He inhaled the thin, high air deeply. Daenerys leaned back into his chest, and he buried his face in her furs.

"Daenerys," he murmered into her ear, the closeness cutting out the sound of the wind. She nuzzled him gently. " _Thank you."_

He saw her smile softly.

"You are very welcome, Jon Snow."

"Gods, this is ... wonderful," he said.

Her face cleared and she blinked in the wind. He thought he felt a salty wetness spray his cheek from hers as she smiled, big and wide.

"Yes," she said simply.

Drogon continued to glide softly a distance.

"Do you want to fly him?" she asked suddenly.

"What?" he said in surprise, eyes widening. "I don't think I could-"

"Don't be ridiculous," said Daenerys, and she grasped onto a spike with one hand and slid from her seat, feet sturdy on Drogon's lower webbed spikes, and threw herself over Drogon, sitting behind him, and suddenly  _he_ was in charge. His heart hammered with nervousness.

Drogon's skin shook beneath Jon again, but it did not unseat him this time.

"Move forward," said Daenerys. "Or he won't know what you want him to do. Those are his most sensitive spikes in front of you."

Terrified, Jon scooted forward. It was a much more natural seat, as he was nestled in between his shoulders and his neck, and he could feel every movement of the muscle beneath him from here. If Drogon turned his neck, even a hair, he would feel it instantly.

"Do you feel him?" whispered Daenerys in his ear, she had moved up to sit right behind him, every part of her body touching him.

"Yes," breathed Jon, though his words were lost to the wind. He nodded.

"Good," she said, and wrapped her hands around his arms, guiding his movements. "Pull his spikes gently to the left."

Jon did as she commanded, and Drogon responded with a twitch of his neck, but he hardly turned.

"You have to connect with him," she said softly. " _Feel him."_

Jon reached out his hand to the hot scales.

"No, not like that," said Daenerys. she wrapped her arms around his chest and rested her hands over his heart. " _In here."_

Jon furrowed his eyebrows, confused. But he was determined. He closed his eyes.

He could feel every movement of the beast below him, his every deep breath, every flap of the wing. Every tiny little movement. Could feel the heat radiating off its scales beneath his thighs and felt the fire deep within it's belly. But there was...more.

Something primal.

Some heat deep within Jon, radiating from the animal below him, deep within his ( _Their?)_ soul, rose up, burned at him, clawed at his throat and set him on fire, but he did not burn. It boiled in his very veins. Burst at him with every beat of his heart...or was it the Dragons' hearts?

He felt them roar. Felt hearts thrum. Not just Drogon beneath him but Rhaegal off in the distance, and Daenerys behind him...and there was something missing...something...an icy, echoey ache that ran deeper than any cavern in the world. It burned,  _really burned,_  not like fire but like ice, and he recoiled, eyes snapping open, pulling back so quickly that Drogon flinched. Jon was breathing very heavy. His heart was hammering. The icy air of reality seeped in like a Winter blizzard. He suddenly felt very cold.

Daenerys was looking at him strangely.

"Jon...?" she said.

_What in seven hells was that?_

He couldn't talk. He could barely breathe.

"Did you...?" he knew he felt her there, knew she had felt  _him_. "Did you feel that?"

"Feel what?" she asked.

"The Dragons..."

Her eyes cleared. She understood.

"I always feel them," she said.  _"Always."_

And suddenly Jon understood.

"But that...that  _pain..."_

Her lip trembled.

"Viserion," she whispered.

Jon wanted to howl.

" _Gods,"_  he said instead.

"I'm sorry Jon, I should have warned you. I didn't think you'd actually feel it so..."

She trailed off. She was looking at him oddly again.

Jon didn't like that look. It felt like she saw some part of him that he did not know existed.

He turned again to face forward. Drogon thrummed beneath him.

"Teach me how to fly this damn thing."

And so she did.

It took over an hour for him to feel like he had grasped the basics. It was more instinct than instruction, he learned.  _He_ didn't tell the dragon what to do. The dragon did what it wanted to do, Jon merely gave suggestions, and  _hopefully,_  Drogon would agree with where he wanted to go, or ... he would not.

 _"Zaldrīzes dohaeriros iksos daor,"_ Daenerys told him. " _A dragon is not a slave."_

Jon fully began to respect that now.

"Nor is he a horse, who will simply go where you lead with a flick of the reins. That's why the connection is important," she explained. "With no connection, how can you truly explain your intent to him? Why should he listen if you do not tell him  _why_  he should do a thing in a way he understands?"

Jon thought he was begining to understand.

After Daenerys felt he had grasped the basics and had him go through the motions of turning, diving, and gaining altitude, she wrapped her arms around him and let him fly to his hearts content, resting her head on his back, breathing deeply, and Jon felt at peace.

He circled for sometime, then did figure eights, just trying to feel more at ease with Drogon and not stray too far from the ship, and the dragon was very patient with him, sometimes he would get snippy and resisitant, but Jon would reach out for the connection again, though as lightly as he could-he did not want to feel that ever-present pain-and Drogon would relax and follow his instruction, seeming to understand what he wanted on an instinctual level. When he felt more confident he felt he could attempt some of the twists and turns that Daenerys had displayed earlier, and felt himself soar. After he'd had his fun he leveled out over the sea, at an angle to the sunset so they could see without blinding Drogon, and coasted.

"You're really a very good teacher," he said to Daenerys after a while.

She raised her head. Reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you, Jon."

The sun had grown low in the sky, lighting up the gray clouds with a golden shimmer, and the sea with a bright golden light. Jon took a deep breath. He wanted to stay up here forever. But he knew they would be in trouble if they didn't return to the ship tonight.

He took a deep breath, letting Drogon glide where he wanted, leaning back into his beloved, who wrapped her arms tighter around him.

"I love you, Daenerys," he murmured.

"And I love you, Jon," she said softly.

"We should really go back at some point."

She raised her head. Sighed.

"Perhaps," she said, "Or perhaps we will stay up here until Drogon's wings tire, and we fall from the sky."

"I'd rather not risk that," said Jon with a laugh.

She sighed, though he sensed her smile.

"Oh, alright. Though I am not responsible for any tongue-lashings that will occur from our dear advisors."

"Oh, yes you are," he chuckled.

She gave him a soft swat.

"I am the  _Queen,"_ she said commandingly.

Jon turned and kissed her nose. She looked like an angry wolf...but Jon was not afraid of her.

"Yes you are, dear."

She glared. Then a smile broke her face.

"It feels good to be carefree for once," she said, her voice growing serious. He sighed, nodding.

She squeezed him tight.

"Alright," she said after a long moment.

She scooched back, and Jon followed her. She repeated her movements from before in reverse, and she sat in front of him again. This time, he felt confident and secure enough on the Dragon's back to wrap his arms around Daenerys instead of gripping Drogon's spikes so tightly. He felt her relax in his arms.

They glided down slowly, as they watched the sun set and the sky grew dark. It grew slowly colder and colder, and Daenerys pulled her white coat tighter around her. Jon wrapped his furs around them both and he saw a single snowflake land in her silver-white hair as they approached the ship again.

"It's snowing," he said. She looked up, blinking as more flakes landed and melted on her cheeks.

Fear gripped him.

 _"Winter is coming,_ " he accidentally breathed aloud, echoing the Stark words.

Reality came down with a hard crash. There was a tense silence.

"We will beat them," said Daenerys softly, as if she sensed his thoughts. "We  _must."_

He held her tightly.

"If we don't-"

"We  _will,"_  she said.

" _If we don't-"_  he said over her, terror gripping his heart and speaking for him.  _I can't lose you._  "I am taking you and running. We will go to Dragonstone with the Dragons and will not leave until the long night is over."

Her brow furrowed, troubled.

"Jon," she said delicately, "Oh, Jon. No."

She turned to him, letting go of Drogon. He continued to glide. She slid her leg over to turn completely around so she rode backwards to face him. She grabbed his face, looking fiercely into his eyes.

"Remember what Tyrion said. We cannot abandon our people. We fight or we die."

He knew that, he  _knew_ that...but...but...

"My honor is not more important that  _you."_

Her face grew angry.

"Stop," she said. "Don't say that. Not ever again. I don't ever want to hear talk of running  _ever again_ , do you understand?  _We fight or we die."_

Jon closed his eyes away from her piercing stare.

"This is too important, Jon."

It was so unlike Jon to say these things...but...his perspective had been changed so rapidly.

_Love is the death of duty._

_If the day should ever come where your lord father ever had to chose between honor on the one hand, and those he loves on the other, what would he chose?_

_He would do whatever was right._

He had been so sure of it then, so sure.

But he had never really understood.

_You know nothing, Jon Snow._

He opened his eyes and looked into her violet ones.

_What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty, against the feel of a newborn babe in your arms?_

"I won't let anything happen to you," he said shakily.

"Jon," she said softly. A gentle warning. He was so lost already.

Then he kissed her, hard, desperate, as the snows fell around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: whoops, I think I just broke Jon. GRRM would probably kill him off at this point, but I wouldn't dare. I'm so not in control of what they're doing. These dumb characters just took my idea and ran with it. What perfect assholes. I ONLY WANTED THEM TO FLY THE DAMN DRAGONS NOT BREAK MY FUCKING HEART. GODDAMMIT JON SNOW.


	5. Whispers and Words

**TYRION**

It had been a long morning.

It had been a long  _trip._

Trapped on a boat with some of the most powerful people in the country, watching them all and their silly little politics and wargames. It wouldn't matter, not when they reached the wall. Their best laid plans would fall to bits when they faced the white walkers. Half their armies would run, of that he was sure. The other half would die, and join the army of the dead, only to chase down the other half and have  _them_  die and join the army of the dead.

Tyrion sighed. He took a sip of wine.

The northern lords were a problem. Idiotic bunch that they were. He would be surprised if they didn't turn their backs on Jon the moment they found out he had bent the knee. And he knew Sansa never would bend the knee if the Lords decided to ...ah... _reappoint_ the crown...she wouldn't, not anymore. He was glad she was finally coming into her own and learning how smart she was, that at least Tyrion was grateful for. She had suffered so much at the hands of his family, and it ached his heart...he had wanted to help her in anyway he could. But the old Sansa would have done whatever those more powerful than her wished, just so she could survive to play another day at this horrible game.

Tyrion had been mostly silent this trip. Waiting. Watching. Drinking. Learning. Counting up those he saw come into realization that his Queen had fallen for the King in the North.

Missandei knew first. Of course she would. If Daenerys didn't tell her, she would have noticed when she changed the Queen's sheets. Tyrion knew she would not tell a soul. Varys was next, Tyrion had saw his sharp, beady eyes flick between the two of them at dinner, as they exchanged a secret glance they thought no one would see. Who knows what he was planning to do with the information, and Tyrion was fearful to find out, though he knew the eunuch would probably mean no harm to the Queen.

_Less so than himself._

He breathed out hard and took a long sip of wine as if it would make him forget.

 _Pregnant,_  he spat out in his mind.  _Pregnant._

How stupid. How foolish. Why now.  _Why._

He forcefully pushed it to the back of his mind.

Then Davos, surprisingly. Though he should have realized he would have figured it out. He was the Hand to the King in the North in all but name. Tyrion had quickly realised Davos had taken Jon under his wing as a second son, perhaps to replace the one he had lost.

_My fault._

Tyrion took a long draught of wine and swallowed hard.

Jorah knew. Jorah knew long before Tyrion had even seen Jon go into the Queen's cabin. Tyrion could tell the poor man was heartbroken...but he really didn't feel sorry for him, somehow. It just made Jorah boringly predictable. When would the man ever give it up? It was clear to everyone the Queen valued him much more as a friend and advisor than anything else.

Then there were a few of the sharper crewmen, and Tyrion would have to keep an eye on them. They were loyal to the Dragon Queen, but only insofar as the younger  _Greyjoys_ were loyal to the Queen.

If they saw it begining to turn against them, if they were threatened by his sister...they would talk at the first sight of trouble. And once they hit the taverns in White Harbor, he feared the gossip that would spread...

They only needed to keep it hidden till they made it to Winterfell. And a little bit past that. If they could introduce the Queen to the Northern Lords, if Tyrion and the others could keep their superstitions at bay, just until they saw her fight for them...save their lives as she always would...her natural charm and leadership would sway them...or so Jon said.

Tyrion wasn't sure whether he trusted Jon's judgement so far.

Although he was courageous. He would give him that at least.

If he could convince the sisters and the younger brother...then perhaps they would have a chance...

He sighed. They had had to make things difficult by falling in love with each other.

Tyrion wasn't mad at them, not really. He knew how difficult it was to resist falling in love.

He refused to think of that treacherous woman's name.  _How had he not seen..._

But never again.

He had thought about it, back in Meeren. Thought about letting it go and saying something...but it was never more than a fleeting thought, a passing glance he had shared with her, and then they had both remembered their seperate pain and left it at that. He'd never revisited it since. Neither of them would.

 _Was he in love with her,_  Jon Snow had had the audacity to ask.

Tyrion tsked.

Beautiful their Queen might be, he had always known she was meant for bigger things than him.

Tyrion tutted again.

 _Oh, look, now_ I'm _the one making dwarf jokes,_  he thought dryly.

Perhaps he had missed them in some twisted part of his brain, for no one had dared make a dwarf joke to him since he had become Hand to the Dragon Queen, no one except Euron Greyjoy.

 _The coward,_  thought Tyrion. Or perhaps he was wiser than them all. They, after all, were the ones going on a suicide mission...

He sighed.

The boat beneath his feet rocked suddenly, hard, and he went into high alert.  _Were they under attack?_

He discarded his wine and rushed above decks. He was just in time to see Jon  _Fucking_ Snow step onto the dragon's wing and take off with their Queen.

" _Fffff-uck,"_ he cursed quietly, sharply.

The people around him were all whispering as he made his way to the captain. He heard the gossip as he passed.

" _Was that the King in the North...with the Queen...?"_

_"Where are they going?"_

_"Perhaps they've decided to abandon us all..."_

_"No, you idiot, they're in love, are you blind?"_

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Tyrion kept up a steady, silent stream of curses until he reached the hardened, sea-sailed man at the helm.

"Call everyone back to work,  _now,"_ growled Tyrion.

The Captain, who had been watching the Dragons, looked down at Tyrion, scoffed.

"The lads have earned a bit of entertainment," he said, "if they want to watch the Dragon Queen fuck the King in the North on the back of a dragon, who am I to stop th-"

"Shut up, you  _idiot,"_  said Tyrion harshly. "There's more at stake here than you realize. I don't want them blabbering about it. It endangers us all."

"They're not blind," said the Captain. "Like you thought they wouldn't notice. Have you seen the way he looks at her, and she at him? If I had a love like that and I knew what was ahead of me, I'd sail for the farthest, most deserted island I could find and not return till winter's over."

Tyrion took a deep breath. The man was trying his patience.

" _Please-"_ he started.

Suddenly, there were screams.

Tyrion turned to the sky.

His best two hopes for the world were engulfed in flame.

His jaw dropped, heart stopped. He took a step towards them, as if he could stop it.

But then they emerged from the fireball, Drogon flying high once again in the sky. He saw a speck of white and a speck of brown on Drogon's back as the flames extinguished, and Daenerys wasn't flying back down...nor did he see anyone plummeting to the sea... so he thought he could reasonably assume nobody was dead.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

_When they get back, I swear to all seven hells..._

He looked back at the Captain. The man huffed.

"Alright, everyone, show's over, get back to work," the captain called. He heard sounds of disappointment from the main deck, and then all but a few shuffled back to what they were doing.

"Thank you," said Tyrion to the Iron-Borne.

All but Jorah, Varys, Missandei, and Davos, who stood on the bow of the ship, exchanging worried looks.

He quickly made his way to them. They all knew, and they all knew each other knew, now.

"Well," said Davos gruffly. "There's no hidin' it now. Everyone saw him ride off with her."

"Stupid idea," said Tyrion angrily. "What the  _fuck_ were they thinking."

Varys shook his head.

"We could pay the crew off," said Jorah, "but gold only holds tongues until more gold loosens it...and it's a long way to Winterfell yet."

"It might be the best we can do for now," said Tyrion. "Gold, and threaten them with Dragonfire should they gossip once we reach White Harbor. Word of this must not reach the north."

"I'll talk to the Captain," said Davos. He left.

Tyrion nodded. He looked up to Drogon and his riders as they flew away to nothing but a speck in the sky.

" _Fuck,"_ he muttered. Ignoring the rest of them, he walked away to fetch his wine.

When he returned, only Varys remained, ever watchful of the black speck in the sky.

Tyrion sat down next to him. Offered him the wineskin.

Varys looked at it. Hesitated. Then took it and took a long drink.

"Seems the more time we spend together, the more of your bad habits I pick up," said Varys bitterly.

"Fucking  _idiots,_ " spat Tyrion, anger boiling at him. "I told them-I told Snow-"

"Since when do they ever listen to us?" said Varys defeatedly.

"Keep it hidden till Winterfell-that's all I asked of them. That's  _it._ And they couldn't even fucking do  _that-"_

"You intended them to marry," concluded Varys.

"Yes," said Tyrion.

"Then you'd reached the same conclusion I had. But this complicates things."

"I didn't know they'd fall for one another. Not so quickly at least. I thought they could wait. I thought they were  _smart_ enough to wait. But no."

Varys side-eyed him.

"We're the only smart ones," said Varys. "The only ones left that can see the wheels turning in this game."

Tyrion glanced at him.

Varys exchanged a quick look with the dwarf.

"Littlefinger is dead," said the eunuch. "His throat slit by his own dagger. I received a raven from one of my little birds."

"You've been rebuilding," said Tyrion.

"Did you think I was sitting idly by, drinking wine, like you? No. Our Queen needs little birds now more than ever."

"Who killed him?"

Varys gave him an amused look, but his eyes were concerned.

"' _Winter came for Lord Baelish.'"_  he quoted.

Tyrion eyed Varys warily.

"As it came for the Freys," he said.

"Yes. As it came for the Freys. Except this time they were all in on it-all of the Starks except Jon. Arya Stark was the one to draw the blade across his throat, although Sansa gave the order."

Tyrion took a long drink of wine.

"Good riddance," said Tyrion after a while. "He was a dangerous man who would see the kingdom burn."

"I know what he was. Better than anyone in the world, I knew what he was."

They were silent.

"Is it true what they're saying about her-about Arya Stark?"

"It's even worse than what they're saying, if what i've gathered is true."

"Gods, for her to be dead all these years and then to come back like this..."

"Is it safe for our Queen to be near her?" said Tyrion.

"I don't know," said Varys. "It could go one way, could go the other. For now, it looks like a pack of Wolves awaits our coming, and who knows whether they will welcome us or..."

Varys did not finish his sentence.

Tyrion took a drink.

"Hopefully Jon can curtail them."

"Hopefully," said Varys. He was silent. "I've heard that Bran Stark is...odd."

"In what way?" said Tyrion.

Vary's thin brows furrowed.

"They say he went beyond the wall, and has now returned...and he..."

Varys trailed off, troubled.

"What?"

"I'm not sure. I've heard differing whispers. It seems they might be trying to keep it hidden...although they say he knew things...things he couldn't have possibly known...things no one could have known..."

 _"Chaos is a ladder..."_  Tyrion heard him mutter under his breath.

Varys was silent, he seemed lost in his mind. Tyrion did not push him. They were silent.

"I've always sort of rooted for the Starks," said Tyrion after a while, changing the subject. "Even when they were against my family. I like Jon. I liked Ned. I even liked Caitlyn, though she held me in captivity. She only did what she did to protect the pack. They've always been very resiliant. And Sansa...especially Sansa. I always knew she would survive us all...and perhaps she will, still. There's something about the Starks I can't help but admire. Perhaps it that whole  _Honer and Duty-"_  he said, dropping his voice into a northerner's tough, harsh growl. He waved his hand vaguely. "-thing."

"No one deserved revenge more than the Starks," said Varys quietly. "No one has had more injustices done against them since Jon Arryn died. No one suffers more at the hands of a dishonest game than honest people."

Tyrion nodded.

Tyrion had a brief moment of madness then. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad for him to know. Perhaps-It was on the tip of his tongue before he caught it and swallowed it back down. Hard.

_Pregnant._

Tyrion up-ended the wine skin into his mouth.

_How could they be so stupid._

The whole country would know it was Jamie's...without a doubt...everyone knew, gods, even the  _wildlings_  knew. They wouldn't be able to hide it. Even if Cersei married, and quickly, no one would believe it wasn't Jamie's. And then he could add another bastard to his pile of dead nephews and nieces. But what could he do about it, now...she sat on the Iron Throne. She could do whatever she wished...and another innocent child would suffer...or, gods forbid...the realm would suffer...they didn't need another Joffery.

He took a deep, shuddering breath.

Drank more wine.

"You're starting to drink heavily again," said Varys softly. "I've noticed it ever since we left King's Landing."

"Why do you care," said Tyrion harshly.

"Because I don't want a repeat of your vomit getting all over my clothes, and I don't want to have to watch you withdrawal again."

Tyrion had a strong urge to roll his eyes.

Instead he drank more wine, just out of spite.

Varys frowned.

"Do what you will," said Varys, standing up. "But please don't forget your duty to our Queen...or the threat which we all face when we reach Winterfell. We will need more than swords to defeat the dead." Varys leaned down to give him a glaring look. "We will need  _sharp, clear minds_ as well."

He walked away. Tyrion tsked darkly.

He sat on the bow, drinking, thinking, watching the dragon soar high above them, as the sun lowered in the sky.

Someone brought him furs, and he covered himself. It grew colder and colder as the sun set. His wineskin was almost empty when the sun slipped below the horizon, and the temperature dropped noticably.

He watched as the largest of the Dragons grew closer to the boat.

 _About time,_  he thought grumpily. He could have gone inside, it's not like he wouldn't have noticed their return and could talk to them then, but he was stubborn, and they had left him alone, and he liked to think.

He had alot to think about.

He stood, to meet them at the deck immediately upon their return, but something stopped him as he moved to pick up his wineskin.

A single snowflake had fallen delicately, gently, to the leather, before it melted into a small drop of water. Tyrion's heart stopped. He looked up to the sky to see soft flecks of snow starting to drift gently into the sea.

His heart dropped into his belly, and he closed his eyes.

_Winter is coming._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I absolutely love Tyrion and Varys' unlikely friendship one of the more entertaining things on the show, IMHO, and I was disappointed we only got one little snippet of a scene with them in s7. (They both had like, almost no character development this season until Tyrion's bit at the end. So disappoint) I know, sorry, no Jonerys this chapter, but I felt like we needed to feel the impact of what they'd done.
> 
> Anyway, let me know how you liked this chapter and leave a review!


	6. Of Gods...

**DAENERYS**

The rest of the trip towards White Harbor was torturous.

Tyrion had had words with the two of them. It was not something either of them had wanted to hear.

Nevertheless, they both agreed to keep their distance from each other for the rest of the trip...as Tyrion had explained, all would be lost if they could not sway the Northern Lords...and their relationship would not help sway them.

But it didn't make it any easier.

Jon still came to her at night, but in secret, in the dead of night, when the rest of the ship slept. He would hold her for a few hours and then painfully leave. Sometimes they made love, sometimes not...but they were always secret and quiet. He had sworn an oath, and he would not break it, not for anything in the world, and she loved that about him, infuriating as it may be sometimes. But not this time. She was grateful to him. They just had to be more careful.

They did not ride the Dragons again.

They would pass in the hall, and only nod briefly after making short eye contact. At meals they would sit as far away from each other as possible. The cramped galley barely allowed for it, but they did try. At meetings they were forced to sit at either heads of the table facing each other, but they would avoid eye contact unless they needed ot talk to each other. During their free time, they would not sit together and read or play games or watch the dragons as they had done before.

It was torment for her.

She missed him.

He was right in front of her, but she missed the intimacy she had grown accustomed to. She missed his warmth next to her. She missed his presence, their intimate conversations. They had grown to know each other very well, and to have their bond ripped apart like this was some fresh new hell for Dany.

By the time the ship pulled into White Harbor, it was a relief.

They only would be stopped for a day, to resupply the ship and to trade some of the crew, before they continued up the White Knife river and onto the King's Road and Winterfell.

She and Jon were also to meet with the Manderlys, who would greet them at the castle first thing after they had docked. She was anxious about that.

It was not Lord Wyman, nor his son Wylis, who both had taken up lodgings at Winterfell, but the family...the Lady Leona Woolfield, who was married to Wylis, and their two young daughters, Wynafryd and Wylla. The wife managed the city in the Lords' stead, as all the men had left for North, and taken a large part of the Manderly's army, leaving only enough guards to protect the city.

It would be her first proper introduction to Northerners, and Jon had been coaching her most of the day. He taught her the history of house Manderly, which she had known some of which but had never heard in full...and he had told her the brother had died at the Red Wedding alongside Robb Stark (which Jon had quickly glossed over, though Dany could sense his discomfort in speeaking of his lost brother,) and she was not to mention it. The Manderly's were amongst the most loyal of houses to the Starks, but Jon had told her that Northerners were a testy bunch, and, though not offended easily, they would be watching her...and word of her actions and the Lady's assesment of her character would be sent along to the Manderly Lords at Winterfell. What happened here could determine what the Lord's opinions of her was when they arrived, and it was important she come from a postion of strength, but also from a postion of compassion. It was important for her to also be warm and welcoming.

So it was difficult for her, when, after they had parted from Davos at the docks, and they had travelled up the winding streets of the city, through the gates guarded by men with tridents instead of spears, only to enter the castle and approached the Ladies in the courtyard, and they curtsied politely to  _Jon_  after he greeted them _,_  and not  _her._ Her temper flared.

"Lady Leona, might I introduce..." Jon hesitated. He had heard all her titles before, but she knew that for the life of him he could not remember them all. She realized that someday she would have to have Missandei teach him the thing in full, and how she had earned each title with fire and blood, and sweat and tears, and hunger and pain, and all of the terrible things she had been through.

"Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of her Name, Rightful Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Protector of the Realm, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains, Queen of Meeren and Lady of Dragonstone," finished Missandei. Jon gave her a greatful nod, and she gave him an amused look in return.

There was a moment, where Daenerys thought they would dare not bow, and her heart skipped a beat-fire sprang to her eyes-but then-

"Your Grace," said Lady Leona, and smoothly curtised. Her daughters followed suit swiftly. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise, Lady Manderly," said Daenerys politely. "Thank you for welcoming us into the city and your beautiful home."

Leona nodded politely.

"My husband and his father, the Lord of this Castle, apologize for not being here to greet you-they are away North in Winterfell."

"Yes, I have been informed. I'm sure I will have the pleasure of meeting them soon."

The Lady bowed her head.

The woman was unreadable.

"I'm sorry we won't be able to stay longer," said Jon, "but as I'm sure you understand we are in a great hurry to be North as quickly as possible."

"Yes, I have been informed of the situation," said Leona. She took a sharp breath. "I am glad we are farther south...but I do worry of my husband and father by marriage so close to danger."

There was a beat. The mood in the room darkened considerably.

"I will be sure to watch over them, My Lady," he said, "and they are strong, brave men, capable of handling themselves, though I cannot guarantee their safety. The threat is great and if we fail we are all doomed."

"Then I will pray you do not fail," she said, in a whisper.

Daenerys felt a sense of sadness at the woman's fear, a fear she shared, but must not show.

"I appreciate your prayers, my Lady," she said, "but we will not fail.  _That_ I assure you. We will defeat the White Walkers, we  _must_ defeat them, and your Lord Husband and his father will return to you, this I swear.

Lady Leonna gave her a sharp look. Daenerys could tell she didn't believe her.

"Still, I will pray," she said sharply. Daenerys glanced quickly at Jon out of the corner of her eye.

Jon coughed.

Leonna turned to him.

"I have prepared a company of ships to accompany you on your journey north along the river, along with armed men and supplies."

"I pray it will be enough to keep you safe on your journey to Winterfell."

"Thank you, my Lady," said Daenerys. "You are most gracious."

"And," she said, a sour look on her face, "as a gesture of good will, I have gifted you one of the finest silversmiths in the city. May he serve you well."

Daenerys' lips parted. She was touched, though she knew that this was not the Lady's idea.

She knew it would be rude to refuse.

 _The North is not like Slaver's Bay. The man is joining of his own free will,_ Daenerys reminded herself.

"Thank you, my Lady," she said, truly grateful. The woman's eyes shifted, and her expression softened.

"I have also taken the liberty of arranging a tour of the castle and city at your leisure, if it please your Grace," she said.

"Thank you, my Lady, that sounds pleasant. We have not had much of an opportunity to stretch our legs on our journey."

She nodded in response.

"I don't wish to keep you, your Graces," she said to Daenerys and Jon in turn. "I am sure you are tired after your long journey."

"Of course, I am sure you have a great many matters to attend to," said Daenerys.

The Lady curtsied deeply and left.

Daenerys and Jon shared a look. He seemed to let out a breath he'd been holding.

He smiled at her. She smiled softly in return.

Their eyes lingered on each other's for half a moment.

Dany's heart began to race.

Then he looked away.

They had a light lunch and planned to go on the tour, but they left the others at the gates, Tyrion saying he'd rather explore the city on his own, and Missandei said she'd wanted to go to the shopping district for a bit, taking some guards with her, and Varys mysteriously snuck away, until there was just the two of them, Dany and Jon, and the 15 Unsullied who guarded Daenerys at all times, but did not count much for company, as they travelled at a distance behind, giving the Queen her privacy.

They met the oldest of the Lady's daughters on the tour, a girl of 14. She smiled at them. She was very sweet and pretty. She seemed a bit in awe, especially of Daenerys, but remained composed. Dany smiled warmly at her and she gushed.

"I'm to give you your tour, your Grace," she said, politely and voice sweet as honey.

"I look forward to it, my dear," said Daenerys gently.

There was a second, then the girl said, in a voice that suggested that she was not supposed to ask such a thing, "Is it true you have dragons? And that you ride them into battle? Like Aegon and Visenya and Rhaenys Targareyn?"

Her eyes were alight with excitement.

Daenerys smiled.

"Yes child, I do...they fly high above the city right now, so as not to scare your people."

The girl's face lifted in excitement.

" _Wow,"_  she breathed.

"My ancestors were idols of yours?"

The girl gushed in excitement.

"They're my sister and I's favorite story. Everyone talks about Aegon, but his sister-wives are the true heroes. Where would he have been without them?"

Daenerys grinned. They locked eyes, child to hero, and Daenerys felt her heart warm.

"I hope I get to be as great a hero as  _you_ some day," said the child.

"I look forward to hearing of all of your great accomplishments," said Dany, beaming.

The girl grinned broadly, and Dany knew she'd made a friend.

She looked up, and Jon was smiling at her.

She first took them to the great hall, then the courtyard, then the battlements. The castle was marvelous-all white stone and high windows with views of the sea. Daenerys could still smell the salty sea air and heard the cry of gulls. She showed them the small sept, and then the godswood...where stood White Harbor's Weirwood Tree.

Dany had heard of them and they had been described to her before-but she had never actually seen one. She was not prepared for how they looked in reality-scraggy white twisting branches and glowing red leaves. But what made her feel uneasy was the face carved in the wood-hollow and empty, this one's mouth was especially stretched, like it was screaming. But it's eyes were strangely alive, and it gave her the shivers.

"Do you follow the old gods?" asked the girl. Dany hesitated.

"No," she said.

"Oh," she looked disappointed. "The Seven?"

Dany shook her head. The girl seemed curious.

"Then what?"

Dany hesitated. No answer came to mind.

There were the Dothraki's Great Stallion...the light of eternal fire...the drowned god...the many-faced god...the Valyian Gods of her ancestors...but none of them fit. None of them were something she wanted nor could force herself to believe in. Dany did not trust nor believe in any Gods anymore...she only believed in herself.

"Nothing," she said.

The girl seemed confused.

"Nothing?"

Dany nodded.

The girl thought for a moment, her face wound up in confusion.

"Oh," she said.

The girl wandered off to sit on a bench near a small trickling stream, and Dany could tell she was thinking very hard.

It was only the two of them , finally having a moment alone. The Unsullied stood near the entrance, where they could still hear and see her, but they would never talk of what she and Jon did, of that she knew.

Daenerys turned hesitantly to Jon, and he was looking at her with a very soft look on his face.

"What?" she asked.

He smiled gently, stretched out his hand to her. She took it bravely. They were, after all, alone now, and neither thought the girl would care or notice, deep in thought as she was.

He led the to beneath the Weirwood tree, and the face stared at her eerily, like it saw every part of her. She wanted to hide.

"It's alright, it may have a mouth but it won't bite," said Jon with a chuckle.

Daenerys composed herself, and looked away from the eyes.

The trunk was pure white, and the red canopy of leaves basked the two of them in a warm glow.

She looked back at his face.

"What?" she said softly again.

"Will you...just sit with me here for a bit?"

And he sait down at the roots of the old tree. When she hesitated, he patted the ground next to him, and she joined him.

Jon did not say anything, and Dany did not dare break the silence. It was...very peaceful under the tree. After a while she leaned on him, laying her head on his shoulder, which was covered in soft furs. He leaned his cheek against her head.

They sat like that for a long while.

"It's peaceful here," said Dany, finally breaking the silence.

"Yeah," said Jon. "I don't know that I follow any gods anymore but...it just reminds me of home."

Daenerys understood that.

She thought back to the red door and her lemon tree.

Would she ever find such a place again? A place she could call home?

She snuggled closer to him.

 _I am home,_  said a voice in her head.

She inhaled deeply and smiled.

"I never had a home," she said quietly. "Not really. We were always on the run...from one place to the next. Robert's assassin's were always hunting us."

Jon was silent for a long moment.

"I'm sorry for what my family did to yours," he said gently after a long moment.

Dany was silent.

"It's not your fault," she said. "And I wouldn't ask you to. Your family was in the right. My father  _was_  mad. He had to be stopped. But..."

"But it should never have harmed  _you_ ," Jon finished. There was a moment of silence.

"...yes," she said softly. "But it brought me here...it brought me to you."

He wrapped an arm around her, and she cuddled in close.

"Yes," he said.

As long as she was with him, she was home.

They snuggled deeper together, and somewhere in the distance, a raven cawed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: thanks so much for reading! please REVIEW and let me know what you think! I LOVE hearing from you...you don't know how many times I refresh my legacy story stats hoping to see my review count go up so I can hear more from you! I love you all so much! ^.^
> 
> Also, my brain is burnt from all the time I've spent on the Wikia trying to learn everything I can about the Targareyns, maps, house's histories...trying to surmise enough about the Manderlys and figuring out where each one was...was quite the headache. They're actually considered the most loyal house to the Starks, and I believe Wyman Manderly has been featured in the show several times...and his second son was slain at the Red Wedding next to Rob, although his first son and heir is still alive, and (I assumed) would not want to wait at White Harbor to be in charge of the city while his father went off to war against the White Walkers, so I put him in Winterfell, (where his father was last seen in the show)
> 
> Mandarly's sigil is a merman with a trident, and also the guards and armies fight with tridents, not spears, which is cool AF. White Harbor is also home to the best silversmiths in Westeros, so I thought it would be cool to add that in and give Dany one, considering the whole Jon/Dany #silverwedding seems to be a growing thing, and I really like the aesthetic idea of it, lol...so obvs. they're gonna need a silversmith for...reasons...
> 
> Plus how great would it be for Daenerys to have a silver crown? In every season, she's had a major piece of jewelry, (my favorite being the dragon necklace from s6), and if she doesn't have a crown in s8 then...
> 
> :(

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: please fav and REVIEW if you liked it! My god, my heart can't take this shit. I fucking love them so goddamn much and I haven't been able to stop fantasizing about them for two fucking seconds. Kill me now I can't wait two more years for more.


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